The Witch that Time Forgot
by nyxblack
Summary: "Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time" At least that's what Hermione Granger has always been told. However, what if the fate's had another plan for you? Would you take the chance? A chance at the life you were always meant to live? (Major spoilers for the film inside. You've been warned.)
1. After the Fall

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction. I own nothing.

 **Authors Note (Just read it):** Alright, listen. I keep getting messages from people who have clearly dropped this fic after a few chapters whenever I post a new chapter which is totally fine. If you don't like it don't read it. But, but! I do know that I stuck pretty close to the film/ screenplay for Fantastic Beasts from roughly chapter 4-18 I believe. The thing is you readers seem to be split into two-three groups when it comes to this fact. Some like how I was able to slip Hermione into the story of the film, adding some bits while keeping some of it the same. Others think that chunk of chapters is super boring, adds nothing new, is basically plagiarism, etc... While the final group either don't really have an opinion/ just stuck with it while I struggled my way through.

This is my very first story. I don't argue that I relied heavily on the source material at first, I used it as a way to set up the story and integrate Hermione into the timeline and such. That being said from the very beginning I knew I would be writing beyond the films events and into the future. Though that chunk of chapters may seem a bit boring or dull at times, a bit rough (I was still trying to find my style), and perhaps unimportant, what I did add is important to the future chapters so I can't just cut that chunk out.

I do intend to go back and edit all of these early chapters once i've finished the fic but for now they stay the same. I wholeheartedly welcome constructive criticism but messages for these early chapters when i've just posted chapter 23 (which is beyond the films events), telling me how boring it is or how it's basically plagiarism/ you could just rewatch the film again instead of reading this are not helpful. There is little I can now do to change these early chapters and how heavily I relied on the source material since they are the base for the future chapters.

Anyways... I rambled... lost my train of thought. Give this one a try or not, totally up to you!

Now edited thanks to The Queen of Thornes! Thank you!

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Five years after the Final Battle, life was good. Many sacrifices had been made in the name of the "Greater Good" but in the end the good guys won. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were defeated and those Death Eaters that escaped during the Final Battle were eventually rounded up and tried for their crimes. The Malfoy's at least, were one of the few families originally aligned with the Dark that managed to escape imprisonment or the Dementor's Kiss. Well, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy at least…Lucius Malfoy, well, that's a story for another time.

It was only a year after the War that the economy began to pull itself together and the Ministry of Magic, while still somewhat corrupt and scrambling to hold their head above the water in this ever-changing time, managed to stay in control. Under the new leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt however, the Ministry was born anew. Unfortunately many Muggleborn and a rather devastating number of Half-Blood employees were lost during the War… some killed, others imprisoned and many missing. Whether they remained in hiding or had met a more unfortunate end was anyone's guess at the time. In the coming years a few resurfaced, a small amount choosing to return to the Ministry, though a larger number still held a heavy distrust for the system that had very nearly cost them their lives and lives of their loved ones, for nothing more than simply being born to the wrong people.

Furthermore in an attempt to weed out the corruption in the ministry, Kingsley and a trusted few, investigated a large number of employees, many of whom were soon found to be accepting bribes from known Death Eaters. Many were bigots and sympathizers to Voldemort's cause and his blood war, and a handful bore the Dark Mark itself branded on the skin of their forearms. Trials were held and justice was swiftly served.

Another side effect of Kingsley Shacklebolt's appointment as the new Minister of Magic, was a wave of freshly graduated Hogwarts students, of every background, flooding into the Ministry taking up those jobs left behind. For some Muggleborn and Half-Bloods these jobs would have been nothing more than a far off dream for them in the past. The favouritism and prejudice of the earlier regime would have crippled their prospects.

Now that's not to say everything was perfect. After so many years of corruption and greed it was nearly impossible to catch every single bad egg… however, it was a start.

As for our heroes? The so-called 'Golden Trio' and their loved ones moved on with their lives, mourning those who were lost and eventually learning to live again.

The Weasley's, that loving, warm family of redheads lost one of their own in the war, Fred Weasley and the family mourned for a time, his twin, George and their mother Molly taking his death the hardest. Though that's not to say the loss their other family members experienced was any less devastating. Though as we all know everyone deals with loss in their own ways… some better than others.

For years George would be a shell of a man. He continued to operate Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes but it would take time before he could bring himself to create any new products. For many years it stayed this way until finally with a look of determination, he set his shoulders and the still young joker began to create again. In memory of the twin he lost and all those who had lost their lives so soon he began to bring laughter back into the world… one joke at a time. Though it wasn't all fun and games. Some of the shop's latest best selling items became items such as Magical Prosthetics and Memory Spheres, the idea for which, he got from Harry's experience with Dumbledore's Pensieve. As implied these Memory Spheres could hold a number of the owners memories. When activated they would play said memories in a hologram displayed above the shining, sparkling sphere.

Magic could be a truly beautiful thing as many began to learn in the peace after the War.

In the wake of the Final Battle, covered in grime, blood and dirt the Weasley family returned home, exhausted and mourning, the family stayed together. Any other day Molly Weasley would have been ecstatic to have all of her children in one place but today was different… she'd lost one of her own. The final conformation of their loss came in the form of a single hand of a clock. Lying beneath her families' beloved clock, broken into pieces was Fred Weasley's clock hand, a hand that would spin no more. The proof lay bare before her, bringing up long forgotten memories of the first war and the loss of her twin brothers and Molly Weasley cried. For days it seemed as though all she did was cry.

Just like George it would take her many years to finally come to terms with the loss of one of her babies but just like George, on an ordinary day much like any other, she finally began to live again. There would always be a hole left behind from her loss, but her children still had need for her. Her husband, her ever loving and gentle Husband who still held her so sweetly, looked at her with desire and warmth. Wrapped in the warmth of her remaining family with the promise of little Weasley grandchildren, Molly Weasley began to live again.

As for the rest of the Weasley's life continued to move forward. Arthur Weasley, husband to Molly Weasley, assisted Kingsley in the clean up of the Ministry and continued his work in improving the rights of Muggles. Their eldest son, Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur continued to live in Britain and in the early 2000's welcomed their daughter, Victoire Weasley into the world. Charlie Weasley, their second eldest son, continued his work with Dragons and remained unattached much to his Mother's dismay. Following the end of the War Percy Weasley returned to the now reformed Ministry of Magic and became the head of The Department of Magical Transportation. Their youngest child and only girl, Ginny Weasley, returned to Hogwarts to finish her final year before pursuing a short lived career as a professional Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies.

Now you all must be wondering what happened to the Golden Trio. No?

Having missed their final year of Hogwarts they were offered a chance to return and finish out their education. However, that was not the only option open to the three. Soon after the final battle all three of our heroes were visited personally by the new Minster of Magic and were offered a chance to become Aurors' without sitting their N.E.W.T.s. An offer presented to all those in their year who fought in the final battle. Both Harry and Ron immediately accepted this offer and began their training.

The Boy-Who-Lived went on to rekindle his romance with Ginny, and the two married in 2003 before welcoming their son James Sirius Potter into the world a year later, at which point Ginny Weasley retired from Quidditch.

Ron and Hermione got together shortly after the Final Battle. Having no interest in jumping straight from a War and into battle hunting Dark Wizards, without even obtaining proper qualifications Hermione Granger decided to return to Hogwarts in order to finish her final year of Schooling and sit her N.E.W.T.s. To no one's surprise she went on to receive some of the highest scores ever recorded in recent history. This choice was one of the first nails in the coffin of Hermione's relationship with Ron. With the distance their Relationship became slightly strained, and even more so with their opposing viewpoints and beliefs. Ron was unable to understand her overwhelming need to return to school and Hermione was unable to understand his willingness to jump from one War to what was essentially another high-risk undertaking.

After obtaining her degree, Hermione Granger began to work at the Ministry of Magic in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, specifically in the Beings Department. Over the course of the next four years she quickly moved through the ranks until finally she was promoted to the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

She couldn't have been happier about all she had accomplished in her career and becoming one of the youngest Heads of the Department in recent history was just the icing on the cake. Her true joy came from being able to truly make a difference in the lives of the creatures and at times Wizards and Witches she met through her job. Though, there was a monumental amount of paperwork involved and ridiculously outdated laws to get around, as well as more than a few bigoted individuals she was forced to regularly deal with. Through her work she came to learn even more about beings, beasts and spirits and never one to pass up on an opportunity to learn, she could often be found in the field or in the plains of some far off place chasing down any number of dangerous and fantastic beasts.

As for her relationship with Ron, it became further strained. Though much of his family was supportive of her career, Ron just couldn't seem to understand or accept her love for her work, or at times her love and compassion for the creatures and beasts she often encountered. Because of the nature of her work Hermione spent much of her time working overtime, out in the field or travelling, though she always tried to make time for their relationship, something always seemed to come up. That's not to say the lack of time they spent together could be solely blamed on her. The job of an Auror was nothing to scoff at either. Ron was often called off on dangerous and secretive missions with little to no warning, sometimes for weeks at a time. This brings us to another point of contention in their relationship. Both of their jobs were dangerous and both often involved travel.

Because of the nature of their jobs and their roles in the previous War neither were without their scars. Though Hermione worried about his safety and would often worry herself sick whenever Ron was injured on his assignments, she understood his love for his for his career and thought him no less attractive with the few small scars covering his body. Hermione saw her own scars as a badge of honour. A visible representation of all she's been through. A reminder of what horrors she's overcome and the memories of some of her more interesting missions with the Department. Though she felt a slight twinge of guilt every time she was injured on assignment and caused her boyfriend to worry, the marks did little to make Hermione feel any less attractive and beautiful. Hermione Granger was not ashamed, however, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ron had a problem with some of her more obvious blemishes.

He never outright said it but it was easy enough to see in the way he averted his eyes when she wore sleeveless tops, his eyes never lingering on the jagged slur scratched into her arm. How he seemed to grimace at times when he looked at her face, avoiding the mark that ran across her left eye, bisecting her eyebrow before tapering off at the top of her cheekbone.

Worst yet was when they made love. The way he would wince and lower his eyes if he so much as grazed any of her larger and less attractive scars. How he always insisted they do it with the lights off. The large scar curving along her body from collar bone to hip, the gift from Dolohov in their 5th year and four large, jagged claw marks etched into the skin of her right thigh from a nasty run in with a Manticore in Greece were some of the most obvious and the ones he avoided the most.

In the beginning of their relationship she didn't think much of it. Perhaps he was nervous? Neither of them came into their relationship with much experience so initially she wrote it off as nerves, and the slur on her arm? Guilt? Though she in no way blamed him and spent plenty of time reassuring him, he still avoided that scar in particular. She couldn't find it within herself to fault him for that, but it hurt her all the same. She would not be ashamed of her blood and she would not hide away her scar. She was Muggleborn and she was damn proud. As time went by however his attitude towards her scars did not improve… if anything it only worsened.

Because of this and a few other reasons, the spark began to die. There was no screaming or yelling. Neither were completely to blame, they both had their own faults and hang-ups. It wasn't instant, but instead over the course of years, it slowly and steadily began to wane… until finally all that was left of their love and relationship was a small, sad, little flicker in the overwhelming darkness.

Until finally, as if with one final breath the flame died completely.


	2. A Flickering Flame

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Pretty sure I screwed up my timeline in the first chapter... i'll go back and fix that tomorrow. I have one more chapter written but I still need to edit it to the best of my ability before posting! So look forward to that I suppose! The story will start to pick up from here on out... unless I hit a wall which is very possible... Wish me luck! Also I hope the way I wrote the memories makes sense.

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A loud thump followed by a loud girlish laugh rang through the halls of the Three Broomsticks Inn. Just behind a sturdy wooden door of a private room a low groan could be heard filling the room. Mind you there was no one there to hear it aside from the lone occupant, one Hermione Jean Granger.

Brown eyes stared at the ceiling, a single arm throw over her head in an attempt to block out the sunlight. Untangling herself from the sheets with a huff she swings her legs over the edge of the bed settling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, the tangled, bushy mass of hair atop her head looking like a striking imitation of rat's nest sticking up every which way. The pounding in her temples a sure sign of the beginnings of a nasty hangover. She licks her lips desperate for water. Running her hands down her face another groan escapes her lips as she staggers to her feet and begins her journey to the small bathroom, the previous night's events playing through her head.

 _Pushing the sleeve of her sleek black pea coat up to reveal a small wrist watch she checks the time. 7:38 pm it reads. Home early for once, maybe even before Ron. Blowing a stray piece of hair from her face she quickens her pace, her low heels clacking against the pavement with each step, a package of take-away dangling from her fingers. A large black leather purse slung over the opposing arm._

Having finally made her way to the clean but small bathroom she strips before stepping into the shower. She doesn't wait for the water to warm before she steps in. Cold water assaulting her senses, startling her awake. She grits her teeth waiting for the water to heat up until finally with a small sigh escaping her lips and the hot water begins to soothe her aches and pains. Tangling her nimble fingers into her righteous tangle of curls she gets to work on her hair.

 _She arrives at her apartment not long after. Making quick work of the door before stepping into her apartment. Taking in the scene she sighs at the mess, clothes thrown over the couch, books stacked haphazardly on many of the surfaces, a few bottles strewn about the floor. Slipping her heels off she steps onto the plush carpet her toes sinking into the plush material. Making her way to the fully furnished kitchen she drops her keys on the bar in passing. A mixture of muggle and magical items on display. Setting the take-away on the counter she shrugs off her coat. Just as she begins to open up the take-away she hears a noise from the bedroom._

Her eyelids drop as her fingers ease conditioner through her hair from root to tip. Teasing the tangles from her hair with practiced ease. Her lips purse as her memories continue to assault her senses.

" _Ron?" Hermione calls softly._

 _With no answer forthcoming she calls her wand to her hand with a bit of wandless magic. A sense of calm washes over her as her fingers wrap around the familiar smooth wine wood of her wand. Alert and vigilant she makes her way swiftly and quietly across the carpeted floor her wand held steadily before her, ready to strike at a moment's notice. She peers cautiously around the corner leading to the hall before settling her gaze on the door to the bedroom her and Ron share. A thump followed by a girlish laugh fills the air. The sound slightly muffled by the hardwood door. She bites her lip her mind racing. Her heart rate increasing. A feeling of unease filling her._

Turning off the rapidly cooling water she steps out of the shower wrapping a thin but comfortable towel around her body before leaving the room. Cold air caresses her rapidly drying skin as she sticks an arm, elbow deep into her suitcase. Searching around a bit before pulling out all she needs for the day. Dropping her towel on the floor she makes quick work of her clothes before heading back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day.

 _Her heart feels as though it will burst from her chest as her fingers wrap around the cool metal door handle. Her wand still held tightly in her hand but now relaxed by her side. With a shuddering breath she turns the handle pushing the door open. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she takes in the sight before her._

Sucking in a deep breath she smooths her hands across the soft material of her dark purple pencil skirt. Her brown eyes staring back at her from her reflection. She straightens the modest collar of her cream coloured blouse tucked into her skirt before getting to work on her make-up. Nothing flashy just a bit of mascara, a touch of blush and a lightly tinted lipstick. She runs a finger across either eyebrow before reaching up to fix her hair.

 _There on the bed in the apartment they share is her boyfriend Ron Weasley and a young woman she's never seen before. Averting her eyes Hermione takes in the state of their room. Clothes thrown about, a pair of high black pumps lay at the foot of the bed, a pair of lacy red panties hand over one of the lampshades, a purse with it's contents spilled across the floor._

" _Hermione-" Ron starts before he cuts himself off as Hermione's angry gaze settles on his face._

 _The scenes changed. Both Ron and the woman have separated. Ron appears to have grabbed a throw pillow to cover his nudity while the woman clutches the sheet to her chest with shaking hands. Hermione moves her gaze over the mystery woman._

 _Beautiful. She truly is, there's no use denying it. Long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair, her face stunning despite her look of fear. Light blue eyes framed by long spider like eyelashes, a slightly upturned nose, bee-stung lips stained with red and pale skin. The sheet clutched tight to her chest doesn't hide much. Hermione's eyes follow the curve of her body. Thin but slightly curved in all of the right places. In truth her body looks pretty similar to Hermione's own only the skin a few shades lighter, a noticeable lack of scars or marks and the mystery woman may have a few inches of height on Hermione's own small frame she muses._

 _She moves her eyes away from the woman before straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. Pivoting on her foot before steadily walking from the room._

She ties off the end of the french braid running her hand down it's length to smooth any flyaways before scrutinizing her appearance. She spent years coming to terms with her appearance. Thanks to Madame Pomfrey her front teeth are now perfect. No longer the large buckteeth of her youth. A small smile curved her lips remembering that small bit of vanity. Her still wild brown hair is confined in a tight, neat braid falling to the centre of her back, her wide brown eyes, shining with curiosity and intelligence, the left bisected by the scar running from eyebrow to cheek, framed by dark black eyelashes now amplified by the small bit of mascara she used. The face of a strong beautiful woman stares back at her. A spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, warm sun kissed skin, and a pair of feminine lips. The elegant curve of her neck leads to a pair of strong but feminine shoulders. Her chest, while not what some would call ample is a decently sized. A small waist and a slight flair to her hips leading into nicely toned legs giving off a distinctly feminine air. She's aware of her looks. Though she may never be a striking cool beauty like Narcissa Malfoy, or a fiery beauty like Ginny she has a beauty all her own. A beauty that doesn't scream for attention but can be found in her intelligent eyes, warm smile or the way she holds herself when confronted with a difficult situation.

 _Stepping into the living room she steadies herself breathing deeply before raising her wand. A large suitcase outfitted with the same undetectable extension charm as her purse floats into the room before being filled with all of her belongings. Once full she kneels in front of the case and closing it before flicking the catches into place. Standing once more she summons her jacket, shoes and purse. Just as she's settling her feet into her heels Ron comes rushing out of the bedroom pulling an old Weasley sweater over his head. A bright red colour with a golden "R" embroidered in the center._

" _Hermione please it wasn't-" He starts, his eyes pleading._

" _No, Ron. Don't you dare finish that sentence." Her tone of voice brokering no argument._

Stepping out of the Three Broomsticks onto the cobblestone street Hermione sucks in a deep breath, the fresh air filling her lungs before exhaling slowly. Looking at the clear blue sky with a smile she begins her short trip to work her leather purse slung over her shoulder, wand hidden in the holster on her arm, her heels clicking with each step. The busy sound of a new day filling her senses.

 _He moves closer his hands reaching for her but she stops him with a steady hand. Hand outstretched she meets his gaze, a tear escaping the corner of her eye betraying her emotions though her stance and tone remain firm. Pulling back her hand she swipes at the tear brown eyes meeting blue._

" _We're over Ron." She says her nails digging into her clenched hand._

" _Hermione please!" He pleads moving forward once more. A single shake of her head stops his approach._

" _No. It's been a long time coming. I'm not really sure why we held on for so long if i'm being completely honest." She admits a sad smile gracing her face. "It wasn't all bad though, was it? There were good times. A few bad as well but plenty good memories to treasure. We lost that spark though. It's all but gone and there's no coming back from this. There's no coming back from tonight Ron. You understand that right?"_

 _A devastated look crosses his face as she speaks. Ron looks as though he'll argue before he drops his eyes to the floor, one large hand reaching up to rub the nape of his neck, the other toying with a loose thread on his sweater._

" _We could still be friends though?" He asks his voice hopeful. Before she has a chance to reply he interrupts. "Not yet! Probably not for a while yet... but someday? Eventually? Maybe we could be what we were before?" He rushes to say that hopeful tone not yet gone from his voice. A moment of silence falls over the two._

" _Maybe. Take care of yourself Ron." With those final words she reaches down grasping her suitcase in hand before walking from their apartment one final time, his apartment now. She rushes down the stairs onto the street before a violent sob shakes body, her breath coming in shaky gasps. Controlling her breathing she begins her journey._

 _And with that the flame flickered out._


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Thank you for the nice reviews! They encouraged me to get this chapter out sooner than I planned to! This was the last chapter I had written but I have an idea where I think I want to go with this so hopefully the next chapter will be up soon enough!

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Hermione Granger, head of The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was not normally the sort of person who lost her temper in the middle of a field mission. Especially in a foreign country with two different a ministries keeping a very close eye on her and her co-workers. Today however, was an exception.

The entire debacle with Voldemort and his death eaters had caught the attention of of the world. Everyone knew of the blood wars and many countries now held a great distrust for the British. War hero or not, no magical, British citizen could easily cross the borders without meeting the suspicious looks of the governing body. A fact that made her current assignment all the more baffling.

Two weeks after ending her relationship with Ron and moving out, while she was knee deep in apartment hunting, Hermione was called away for an urgent assignment in America. Specifically New York. According to the report that had been unceremoniously dropped onto her desk by a frazzled mail delivery wizard, a British wizard is said to have been breeding and selling Tebo, a beast quite similar in appearance to a warthog, native to Congo and Zaire, classified as a level XXXX on the classification scale. Meaning a dangerous beast that requires specialist knowledge, though a skilled wizard may be able to handle it. Said wizard was illegally breeding and selling these creatures to high paying clients when he was unexpectedly gored by one of his Tebo, killing him. Days after his death he was found by the local Aurors, the interior of his house torn apart and each and every one of his Tebo missing.

The entire incident was a complete and utter mess! A foreign wizard, illegally residing in America where the saying "shoot first, ask questions later" still rings true for many people both wizard and muggle, sorry No-Maj alike. Foreign beasts native to the Congo and Zaire on the lose, a beast which is highly dangerous partly due to the fact that it can make itself invisible. Not to mention being the proud owner of a rather impressive set of sharpened tusks. All loosed on the unsuspecting public in the middle of bloody New York city!

Before the mission even went underway a messy argument took place between the British, African and American Ministries. All three ministries fighting over whose head the entire issue came down upon. In the end, it was decided that all three ministries would take part in the mission. A small group of highly skilled, handpicked individuals from each of the ministries would be sent to New York where they would then attempt to work together in order to capture all of the missing beasts and return them safely to the Congo. Or if need be, kill them before any human life was taken. That part in particular rubbed Hermione the wrong way. Kill them! Creatures bred by a selfish man for his own selfish reasons! Sold to even more selfish individuals with deep pockets and a disregard for sentient life.

Who could blame the Tebo for their actions, any creature large or small, when threatened will defend themselves to the best of their abilities. Wizards have wands, Muggles have guns and other weapons with which to defend themselves and animals, beasts and creatures have claws, tusks or any number of other attributes granted to them through evolution and time. They were simply defending themselves and reacting in the only way they know! If she had it her way every single one of those creatures would be taken alive and returned to their native land.

As luck would have it the breeder in question kept meticulous records. Of the dozen's he had bred and sold off in the past only five Tebo were remaining at the time of his untimely death. Not even a week into their mission all but one had been caught and shipped off to the Congo. The tracking of the creatures made easy by the simple fact that an invisible creature was often, accidentally provoked by unsuspecting humans. Luckily for all involved no further life had been lost. A few bumps and bruises for those involved in the incidents but all but one Tebo had been captured. The death toll remaining low with only the breeder as a causality. Tracking down the final Tebo was surprisingly easy like all the rest... if not a bit of a mess. In the middle of less busy New York street mid afternoon the Tebo made herself known. After having the MACUSA shut down the street, Hermione and her team of coworkers and foreign officials managed to corner the rather angry Tebo when Hermione noticed something odd. A small shimmer just beyond the raging Tebo, partially hidden behind its body. Her eyes widened in recognition but before she could shout out a warning to her comrades... it all went to hell.

Moments before her discovery the team moved in. The entire task force was outfitted in tight but comfortable fitting magically reinforced clothing. Hermione herself chose to forgo a robe or jacket in the pleasantly warm weather, instead outfitted in a pair of close fitting black trousers, flat shoes and and a light weight crimson blouse. Her mane of hair tied back in a tight bun, a few rebellious curls breaking free of their confines to frame her face. Light make-up, her trusty black purse crossing her body, wand in hand and holster disillusioned on her arm finished off the ensemble.

A tall dark skinned wizard and his team approached the Tebo from behind, wands poised and ready to subdue the threat. The Americans and their team closed in on the left, some looking a little more bloodthirsty and trigger happy than the rest. She really would have to keep a closer eye on these American's, some were just as bigoted as Malfoy and his crew. This being made all the more obvious when one took into account their outdated laws and beliefs concerning those they label No-Maj. And finally Hermione's team took the right. Approaching with caution wands at the ready.

Only one Witch stood away from the group her mouth hung open, eyes wide. Hermione Granger couldn't believe her eyes. The small shimmering form behind the Tebo materialized just for a second, long enough that if you blinked or weren't paying attention you'd miss it. A small form so similar to the one that concealed its body huffed and kneaded the ground. A miniature version of the creature the task force was currently facing down... threatening as the creature perceived.

 _A baby._ Her mind supplied. She's _protecting her child! This has gone from bad to worse!_

The mother huffed stamping her foot. Head bent low, her sharp pointed tusks glinting in the sunlight preparing herself to strike. The approaching wizard's paused getting into position, all wands pointed at the mother Tebo preparing to send a volley of spells at the angry beast. One thought rushed through Hermione's mind before she sprinted forward past the line of wizards towards the beast.

 _I can't let them attack the mother! Protecting her young will have made her even more viscous, reckless and aggressive! We may not be able to subdue the mother easily and if she's is injured the child will attack!_

Once more Hermione was reminded that humans and the creatures she loved to study so much weren't all that different when it came down to it. When attacked even the weakest creature would defend itself to the best of it's ability. This was even more true when one was protecting those they cared for. When they had something to fight for... Even more problematic was that Hermione knew that a baby Tebo was no less dangerous than full grown adult.

 _The breeder must not have known. The child must have been born after the attack. We should have thought of this! None of his notes mentioned the conception of children! The newborn Tebo's were only added to his records after the birth._ A sneer curved Hermione's lips at the thought. _Of course, I imagine the breeder thought it pointless to record their conception. What's the use of an unborn Tebo that may not even make it to term? The only god Tebo was one he could sell. No use taking notice of them before they could even become breeding stock or otherwise be sold off for the use of their hides. How could we be so stupid!_

A scream died on her lips as the mother Tebo let out a cry before charging forward. Without thought Hermione threw herself between the charging Tebo and crowd of wizards. Spells of every colour rushed towards her. Taken down by a volley of spells coming at her from all sides or being gored by a raging mother Tebo from behind. How in the world would this one end? Her brown eyes quickly scanned the incoming spells taking note of those that would soon reach her, some of which were not authorized for use on this mission... some were hardly even legal! Rage gripped her senses as the realization hit. What some of these spells would do to the poor Tebo and it's child... terrible. Some of these people weren't shooting to capture but instead kill.

A smaller cry behind her drew her attention. Whipping her head around, more hair escaping her bun, she watched as the baby was hit with a slicing curse. The mother roared in rage.

"No!" She shouted waving her wand to pull up a shield around herself a moment too late.

 _Sloppy work Granger. Rookie mistake letting your instincts take control, letting your guard down. That Gryffindor brashness is truly showing._ She thought bitterly.

Her body jerked as numerous spells hit her. A collage of colours of colours bathed her in luminous light. What worried her the most in that moment however was the sudden, intense burning that began to fill her chest. Looking down with fearful eyes the shimmering gold of her time turner caught her eyes. No longer hidden beneath the smooth fabric of her now torn top lay the gift from her Transfiguration teacher. Her breath caught and the world seemed to slow as the small hourglass began to glow, burning her now exposed skin. The sands of time frozen, the glass cracking. A scream tore from her lips as the hourglass suddenly explodes, pieces of shimmering glass spraying into the air before her, specks of dust and glasses embedding itself in the skin of her chest. And suddenly it feels as though all the air has been ripped from her lungs. She closes her eyes tight , a silent scream tearing from her lips once more, falling on deaf ears as the familiar sensation of being sucked through a tube, oh so similar to apparition overtakes her and everything goes black


	4. Newt Scamander And you Are?

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Thank you again for the messages! You don't need to send any if you don't want to but I really do appreciate it! If anyone has any suggestions or comments please do send them in! I know these first few chapters have been short but i'm hoping they'll begin to get a bit longer as the story begins to evolve and take shape.

* * *

 **Deserted Side Street-New York City-1926**

"-if you just stand there-this will be over in a-" A male's voice, clearly British reaches Hermione's ears.

Groaning in pain as light, smells and sound assault her battered senses. She feels as though she just went a round with a Hungarian Horntail and somehow managed to live to tell the tale. The feeling of warm, hard brick pressing into her back. Her stomach rolls, arms hugging her middle tight in the hopes of fighting off the nausea. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair reaches her nose. She gags. The pain in her chest making it's presence known. The broken pieces of her time turner, what's left of it at least clutched in a single bleeding hand. The bare chain still hanging from her neck. She takes a deep breath in attempt to settle her stomach and rapidly beating heart.

It's no use. With a loud groan she bends at the waist emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground below. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes. The smell growing even stronger. Her legs shake as she begins to dry heave. Taking a breath she straightens herself up, leaning back against the brick wall for support. A thin sheen of sweat coats her skin, a chill rushes over her causing her to shake. With a frantic hand she wipes at her mouth and face. The bitter taste of sick filling her mouth, the smell surrounding her. Taking another deep breath she relaxes her arms dropping them to her side, the time turner still clutched tight in her hand. Metal and glass cutting further into her hand. Suddenly a heavy hand lands on her shoulder. Her breath catches, eyes flying open.

Brown eyes meet blue. An attractive man with reddish brown hair, pale skin with generous helping of freckles, and curious blue eyes stands before her his hand on her shoulder. He looks to be a couple years older than her and and has quite a few inches of height on her. Though most people do. Wiry and thin most of his frame hidden by an old blue overcoat. His style of dress is rather odd... He holds a smooth wand in his free hand.

 _Wizard._ She reasons. _Not one of mine... can't be one of the American's or Africans with an accent like that._

Coming to the realization that an unknown wizard stands before her wand at the ready, she rights herself sliding her body discreetly into a duelling position.

"Steady. That was quite the-" He begins cutting himself off startled.

Her vine wood wand is thrust against his throat. She watches as he swallows slowly his adam's apple prominent against the smooth skin of his pale throat.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Hermione challenges him in a mildly shaky voice.

 _This isn't the time to be losing your nerve!_ She chastises herself mentally.

"Who am I?!" He asks in an incredulous tone. "Who are you?! Appearing out of nowhere. Shoving a wand in my face before so much as a hello."

Her brow twitches in confusion and slight irritation but her wand remains steady. Spell ready on her lips waiting for the slightest hint of danger. As if suddenly remembering something very important the man jerks his head to the right looking down the alleyway. His eyes widen, mouth agape. The grip on his wand loosens.

"Bugger!" He curses stowing his wand away in the folds of his overcoat.

Frozen in shock Hermione stands still as stone. Her wand still at the ready, gritting her teeth. He steps away from her running a frenzied hand through his already messy hair before gathering himself, bending to pick up an old battered brown case at his feet. Their eyes meet once more and he motions her forward. Her arm drops, though her gaze and stance remain cautious and alert.

"Come on then." He says with the slightest of smiles. Hand outstretched.

Stowing her wand in the disillusioned holster she pushes off from the wall slowly as if on autopilot. With a single shaking hand she slips the broken time turner into her pocket, wiping her bloody hand on her black trousers. She approaches the man slowly completely out of her element when he suddenly grabs her wrist his large, freckled hand easily wrapping around it. Fingers pressed tight against her pulse point. With a soft tug he pulls her close to his side.

Neither party seems to take notice of the glowing gold tendril of raw magic reaching from Hermione's still bleeding hand towards the man. It snakes its way around each of their wrists. A beautiful, shimmering display of magic. Their skin tingling slightly where they touch, an unnoticed sensation as it seems to settle into their skin before disappearing completely.

* * *

Unnoticed by the pair, a woman walks down the side street with purpose the collar of her overcoat pulled up high against her neck.

The man straightens his back encouraging Hermione to do the same, attempting to be nonchalant, and if Hermione is being completely honest, failing. The two walk towards the woman, clearly suspicious.

As they begin to pass the she grabs each of their elbows in turn and disapparates them away.

* * *

Hermione groans once more as the three of them apparate into a cramped, bricked off alleyway. Stumbling back slightly her foot catching on the curb only to have her arm once again caught by the man in the overcoat. Opening her eyes, stomach doing flips she looks at the woman before them. She's about 3 inches taller than Hermione, short brown hair cut into a blunt bob, pale skin with a large overcoat engulfing her slender frame. Her incredulous brown stare the two down before she rounds on the man.

"Who are you?" She questions her voice tight.

"I'm sorry" the man almost seems to stutter out.

"Who are you? Who are both of you?" She tries again her voice raising an octave, eyes sliding to Hermione taking in her odd clothing a confused look on her face. Her lips pressed into a stern line.

Hermione feels her panic building as she stares at the woman in turn. Her odd style of dress so very out of place. _For the early 2000's that is..._ Focusing on the police sirens sounding in the distance.

 _Something is very, very wrong._ She thinks worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her mind begins to connect the dots working fast even under the crushing amount of stress and panic she feels building within her. Before she's able to come to a solid conclusion the man clears his throat.

"Newt Scamander. And you are?" Hermione whips her head around to look at him stray pieces of hair smacking her face. With wide terrified eyes the final pieces of the current puzzle begin to slide into place as she once against studies his appearance.

 _He's so young. Late 20's to early 30's perhaps..._ Her mouth drops open a shaky sigh escaping her lips.

"Bloody hell" she exclaims in a shaking voice drawing their attention once more.


	5. Newt Scamander, a Niffler and a Case

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belong to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Ah I actually had the same thought about the [ ] taking away from the story and making it confusing **BeckyBoo12221.** Personally i always find it a bit annoying when it's used in other fics I read on here but I wasn't quite sure if the Disclaimer alone was enough when I was copy the lines straight from the book.

Thank you again to those who sent in messages for the words of encouragement! I'm very glad that people are getting some enjoyment from my story. I know many of us are hurting for a bit of Hermione x Newt action so hopefully I can deliver! When I have the time i'll go back and edit the first few chapters to fix the issue stated above and a few other spelling mistakes and such i've noticed after publishing. Anywho with that said onto the story!

Also don't worry there will be plenty of Hermione x Newt romance eventually. Need to attempt to set up the story first but rest assured it will come! The ideas are already swimming around in my head.

* * *

 _Bloody Hell? Honestly had Ron rub off on her that much?_

 _What happened to the concept of discretion?! There's no way his name would mean anything to anyone at this time. He's too young! He probably hasn't even published the first edition of his book yet and probably has yet to receive any sort of recognition for his future contributions to the wizarding world. The only reason his name alone should cause such a reaction was if the they had attended Hogwarts at the same time. A fact he's sure to pick up on!_ Her mind scoffs through the panic.

A cold sweat breaks out along her hairline, her breath coming in quick gasps, panic engulfing her. The unknown woman and Newt bloody Scamander stare at her with curious and worried eyes. Her hand grasps at the now naked chain around her neck, the cool metal biting into her hand, eyes wide. Remembering its fate her other hand presses against the pocket of her trousers.

 _Oh god. No._

Her fingers drop from the chain to her now marred chest. Frantic eyes flick to the skin exposed above the now ruined collar of her blouse. Parting the pieces her eyes take in the damage.

 _It isn't too bad._ She thinks lightly touching the new wound.

 _Isn't very pretty though._ The vain though surprises her before she begins to truly look. The skin is raw and burnt, shallow cuts covering the area. Small pieces of glass and glittering dust embedded in her skin. Luckily the bleeding has stopped meaning nothing had been nicked in the accident but honestly she has trouble believing there's anything lucky about this situation.

Allowing the split pieces of her shirt to fall back into place she moves her hand to cover her mouth. A choked sob breaking through, her breath hot on her skin. She attempts to calm herself down. Mind racing.

 _Breathe_. She closes her eyes, long eyelashes caressing her cheeks.

 _Breathe._ She forces her shoulders to relax, hands dropping to her sides.

 _Breathe._ She unfurls her fists, flexing her fingers before wiping her sweaty palm on her trousers.

 _Breathe._ She straightens her legs and back, head held high.

 _Breathe._ The sound of sirens and voices in the distance once again fill the air. The world moves forward.

 _Breathe._ Her brown eyes shoot open, her posture and features relaxing.

" _Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time."_ The single memory flashes across her mind. A ball of fear forms in her chest it's black inky fingers clutching her heart. Her lungs constrict and once again she forces herself to breathe.

 _Time travel._ There's no denying it. Her prior experiences with the device in her third year. Her research into time turners and travelling through time. Later, all those days sequestered away in her office re-reading her copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. The moving portrait on the back of her leather bound edition displaying the smiling face of a far older Newt Scamander his hair completely white. Her fingers tracing the words of old wizarding history books in the libraries in the Ministry.

* * *

 _Newt Scamander. Beginning around 1908 he attended Hogwarts. Once there he was sorted into Hufflepuff house. He was later expelled from Hogwarts in 1913 when one of his beloved beasts endangered the life of a student. Albus Dumbledore, transfiguration teacher at the time argued strongly on his behalf. After leaving Hogwarts, Scamander joined the Ministry of Magic and took a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Spent two years in the Office for House-Elf Relocation before transferring to the Beat Division. There he received numerous promotions before leaving the ministry in 1918 after receiving a commission from Augustus Worme of Obscurus Books to write the first edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. A book that would later be used as a part of the Hogwarts curriculum. He then travelled for quite some time working on his book before arriving in New York in 1926 for what was meant to be a quick stop over._

 _However, after meeting a muggle named Jacob Kowalski his visit turned into an incident of major proportions. While there, he had a few rather damning experiences with the Magical Congress of the United States of America, better known as MACUSA, met his future wife and helped to defeat none other than the dark wizard and international criminal Gellert Grindelwald. While it may have been his first meeting with Gellert Grindelwald it was certainly not his last._

* * *

The book of course explored his life in much more detail but the relevant information to her current situation neatly sorted itself out in Hermione's mind.

 _1926._ She'd travelled over 70 years into the past! The realization caused her stomach to roll once more. She pressed a a hand to her stomach fearful that the gagging would begin once more.

 _Merlin!_ This wasn't anything like using the time turner to take a few extra classes or rescuing an escaped, albeit innocent, convict from the kiss.

 _Over 70 Years._ She was smack dab in the middle of history being made! What a terrifying but oddly exhilarating thought.

"Miss?-Miss are you-" With a intake of breath Hermione focused on the woman before her. As there eyes met the question died on the womans lips. Her hand lightly grasping Hermione's arm.

"Yes. Yes, of course." She replied waving the question off. Gently pulling her arm from the mystery woman's grasp.

"If you're sure Miss-" The woman starts her voice trailing off in question.

"Hermione." Hermione supplied.

"Hermione?" The woman questioned once again when know further explanation was offered.

"Just Hermione." She replied simply.

"Well than Hermione what are you doing with this fellow here? I didn't see you earlier in the bank. An accomplice perhaps? And just what's that _thing_ in your case Mr. Scamander?" The woman asks her voice once again taking on a stern and suspicious tone.

"Accomplice?! No, no! I don't-" Hermione begins in protest throwing her hands up in an attempt to convince the woman of her innocence before she's cut off by Newt.

"That's my Niffler." Offers Newt as if the answer was obvious.

"A Niffler! Really? In there?! Undetectable Extension charm? Bigger on the inside?" Hermione begins excited, pushing her time travelling dilemma to the back of her mind. The task at hand so much more appealing.

 _Why hadn't she thought of that. Her very own magical menagerie on hand at any given time._ _While perhaps Menagerie wasn't the correct term, no matter._ A short mirthful laugh escapes her lips.

She neatly packs the topic of her time travel dilemma away on the book shelf of her mind to revisit at a later date. A much more interesting topic has caught her attention now. The topic of Newt Scamander, the Niffler and his old beaten case clutched tight in one hand. Her mind spinning with the implications she shakes her head another laugh escaping her as she raises her gaze. Sparkling brown eyes meet blue and the two share a small smile. A spark in his eye as he recognizes a kindred spirit.

"Ah, well actu-" He starts the smile never leaving his face.

"Why in the world did you let that thing loose?" The mystery woman questions loudly.

Hermione could curse this woman! Interrupting a conversation with Newt Scamander of all people! Oh the things she could learn! Not to mention how attractive he was at this age.

"I didn't mean to-he's incorrigible, you see, anything shiny, he's all over the place-" He says in way of explanation pulling his case tight to his body, his free hand stroking its leather face lovingly.

"You didn't mean to?" She repeats his earlier statement unconvinced.

"No." He says a bit awkwardly and unsure under her heavy stare.

Hermione can't help the small giggle that bubbled from her lips in that moment her own irritation once directed at the other woman now forgotten

 _This entire situation is absurd._ They both look at her. Newt seemingly intrigued by her reaction. The reaction on the other woman's face far less friendly.

"Really? You find this funny?! You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose! We're in the middle of a situation here! I'm taking you in!" She exclaims with a tone of finality.

Both Hermione and Newt turn to her and begin to protest at the same time.

"Oh honestly, a Niffler! It's not as though he's truly dangerous beast. A little bit on the mischievous side, sure and he's likely to leave a path of minor destruction and treasure in his wake but hardly any reason to take him in. When they aren't wreaking havoc on a place they're the cuddliest of creatures!" Hermione reasons a small amount of irritation leaking into her voice once more.

"You're taking us where?" Newt asks quickly as though confused.

The woman pulls a small folded sleeve from her coat before flipping it open to reveal her official ID card. Hermione's eyes scan the contents quickly catching her name and recognizing the symbol for MACUSA before the woman stows it away once more in the safety of her overcoat.

 _Propentina Goldstein. Could she be Newt Scamander's future wife?_ Squinting her eyes at the woman before her as if attempting solve a difficult maths problem she rolls the thought around in her head as if tasting it. _The books never did mention his wife's name, simply that he first met her in 1926 during his extended stop over in America._

"Propentina Goldstein. So you work for the Magical Congress of the United States of America or MACUSA if you'd prefer." Hermione intones before Propentina's able to get a word in edgewise. Her own question followed quickly by a similar one from Newt.

"You work for MACUSA? What are you, some kind of investigator?" He asks nervously, not so discreetly shifting from one foot to another.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione watches him. _Who would have thought the great, Newt Scamander would be such an awkward man._ She muses with a smirk. _Mind you it is somewhat endearing._

"Uh-huh." Propentina Goldstein hesitates for a moment before answering.

"Tina." She states her gaze moving to Hermione.

"Pardon?" Hermione asks suddenly caught off guard.

"My name. No one around these parts calls me Propentina. No one since my parents probably." She pauses momentarily before rounding on Newt.

"Can you please tell me you took care of the No-Maj?" She asks in a exasperated.

At Newt's look of confusion Hermione quickly chimes in.

"She means the Muggle." She supplies helpfully

A mix of understanding, gratitude and guilt settle themselves across his features.

"Um..."

"That's a section 3A, Mr. Scamander. I'm taking you in." Tina informs him appalled.

"You as well Miss-" She pauses, a huff of irritation escaping her lips before taking Hermione and Newt by the arm and they disapparate once more.

* * *

 _Enough!_ Hermione thinks as they Apparate into yet another alleyway.

Tina begins to pull her and Newt into the busy bustling downtown streets of New York City her steps confident and sure. Weaving in and out of the crowd Hermione quickens her pace in order to stay in step with Tina and Newt. Struggling to continue on without her face meeting the gravel. A task easier said than done for Hermione and her short 5'5 stature. She can hear Newt and Tina talking beside her but focuses instead on people and scenery that surrounds her, legs straining she takes in the sites of 1920's New York until suddenly they stop, Hermione bumping into Tina's side. Following Tina's gaze she notices a man in cloaked uniform standing guard at the door before them.

"I got a 3A" Tina explains to the guard.

The door immediately opens and the three enter.

* * *

Hermione's breath catches as they enter the main lobby, her eyes widen in wonder. _Breathtaking. A piece of living history!_ She exclaims in her mind.

 _It would seem American wizards are somewhat less adverse to change than their British counterparts._ As soon as she thinks it she shakes her head. It's not as though it really surprises her.

Though she's somewhat familiar with the modern day design of the MACUSA, the 1920's design is a whole other beast. As people mill around them chatting she allows Tina to lead her through the lobby, a vast, impressive space with high vaulted ceilings. Her gaze devouring the sights. A gigantic dial with a vast number of cogs and faces hangs from the ceiling, a portrait of a very young Seraphina Picquery paints an imposing picture on one of the walls, owls swoop and glide above their heads dropping missives on employees desks as Witches and Wizards mill about. She even spots a house-elf in the crowd! Unknown to her on the other side of Tina, Newt is looking rather impressed by the display as well. As they reach an elevator the doors open to reveal a goblin who appears to be working as a bellboy.

That's new. She thinks fighting to keep the shocked looked from her face. It's never a good idea to insult a Goblin she recalls as she controls her expression. They must no longer employ Goblins in the future. Or if they do they no longer employ them as bellboys seeing as how all of the elevators are run by some form of magic. No bellboy needed.

The Goblin and Tina exchange greetings before she shoves Newt and Hermione forward into the lift.

 _Well i'm sure this will end well._ Hermione can't help but think as the doors close.


	6. Our Very Own Muggle

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belong to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction and I in no way claim to own any of the ideas or content directly taken from the Fantastic Beasts film or Screenplay.

 **Author Note:** Phew longest chapter yet! swishyla: I know I know! I got a bit excited and couldn't stop writing! The updates will probably begin to slow down a bit now as the chapters begin to get longer. I'm hoping i'll at least be able to release one new chapter a week if not more. I have no intentions of abandoning this story when all of you are cheering me on! Alice Wolfstein: Thank you for the kind words! I'm pretty nuts about this pairing at the moment as well ;). I'll definitely keep your offer in mind and may very well take you up on it in the near future! Feel free to send in any suggestions or comments you may have, I have a few points of the story fleshed out pretty well but a lot of it's still open. I'm still trying to decide how much I want to change the original storyline in terms of important events.

Lastly thank you everyone for your kind words of encouragement. No worries i'll be continuing on! Also more Hermione x Newt interactions coming soon! Just trying to set it up a bit before jumping into anything...

* * *

"-must be stopped. It's terrorizing No-Majs and when No-Majs are afraid, they attack. This could mean war." Hermione strains her ears to hear the words the imposing, female speaker speaks as Tina drags her and Newt out of the lift and into the Major Investigation Department.

Looking around the room she takes stock of the situation. A group of clearly high-level Aurors appear to be having a very important meeting. A meeting that is being attended and lead by none other than President Seraphina Picquery herself. Upon hearing the three intruders approach the officials turn irritated gazes on Tina as she cautiously enters the now silent room, Newt and Hermione in tow.

"I made your position here quite clear, Miss Goldstein." Seraphina Picquery begins clearly angry, though contained.

 _What an excellent display of poise and control._ Hermione can't help but think as she takes in the imposing woman before her. Despite her current style of dress it was hard to ignore her beauty. A strong and powerful beauty. A beauty to be respected and even a little fearful of. A beauty backed up by a strong sense of self, confidence and poise. A powerful and somewhat dangerous aura surrounding her.

 _Seraphina Picquery. An American born witch who attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A member of Horned Serpent House._ If Hermione remembered correctly it was said that during her sorting she was offered a place in all four houses, becoming one of the few students to be so honoured. Her thoughts once again focused on her memories of the information surrounding this witch that had managed to survive time.

 _Though she chose to be placed in Horned Serpent, one of Ilvermorny's four houses. She later served as President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America between the years of 1920 and 1928._ Hermione's eyes trailed lower to Madame Picquery's hand where her smooth, brown wood wand was held in a loose but sure grip. The beautiful, purple jewelled hilt winking at her.

 _She was said to be the owner of a controversial Violetta Beauvais wand, a kind of wand that was said to "take to dark magic like a vampire to blood."_ Her mind supplied.

 _A formidable and charismatic woman with a spine made of steel._ Hermione thought her ears picking up on the tail end of the conversation currently taking place. The humiliated tone in Tina's voice apparent as the conversation came to an end making Hermione wince.

"Yes, ma'am." and with that a bemused looking Newt and sympathetic Hermione were pushed back towards the lifts by a very humiliated Tina Goldstein.

* * *

Once again they descend, the doors of the lift opening to reveal a dusty, windowless basement room. An obvious contrast to the floor above.

Arm's finally free of Tina's grasp Newt and Hermione follow her as she leads them past a number of unmanned, magically operated typewriters. The clacking sound of the keys filling the room. Finished forms and reports organize themselves neatly in the drop boxes below. Some of the forms folding themselves into origami rats before scurrying up clear tubes that bend and weave towards to ceiling where they disappear. Their destination, the floors above, making their way into the hands of the higher-level ministry workers stationed there.

 _Gods I hate Rats._ Hermione sneers, the memory of Peter Pettigrew making itself known as her eyes follow the paper rats on their journey up the tubes before disappearing into the floors above.

Tina leads the two towards a small corner of the room. A single rickety sign hangs above it reading: Wand Permit Office. Hermione's mind is brought back to the present as she watches Newt duck to avoid the sign. Once inside Tina stops at a desk, removing her coat and hat before busying herself with a messy stack of papers on her desk.

"So, you got your wand permits? All foreigners have to have them in New York." Tine states much of her previous composure gone.

Hermione simply nods wishing to draw no further attention to her mysterious arrival. Though Newt was the only one to witness it and quite possibly the muggle he never managed to obliviate it's better to be safe than sorry. From the corner of her eye she watches Newt as he opens his mouth to reply.

"I made a postal application weeks ago." The lie is obvious as he speaks, worrying his hands.

 _Newt Scamander, the rule breaker. Now that doesn't come as much of a surprise._ Hermione thinks with a secret smile.

"Scamander..." a pause, as Tina sits behind her desk, a clipboard in hand.

"And you were just in Equatorial Guinea?" She asks clearly finding him rather suspicious.

 _Oh how i'd love to pick his brain._ Hermione's mind nearly squeals. _And just what creatures were you seeking there Mr. Scamander? How i'd love to hear about his experiences first hand! Or better yet, witness them personally!_

"I've just completed a year in the field. I'm writing a book about magical creatures." He explains.

"Like-an extermination guide?" Tina asks looking up from her clipboard.

 _The ignorance!_ _Wizards!_ Hermione can't stop the snarl that curves her lips at the question. A growl bubbling in her throat.

"No. A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them." Newt explains seeming slightly irritated himself, though far more patient than Hermione when dealing with her question.

 _He must be used to people like this. Most must think him mad! 1920's wizarding Britain and elsewhere weren't exactly known for their tolerance._ She thinks her expression softening.

"And you Hermione? I have no record of any of your current travels. Just what are you-" Tina begins her brown eyes settling on Hermione before her attention is drawn to the sound of approaching footsteps.

A pompous sort of man enters the space shouting for Tina. She ducks behind her desk amusing both Hermione and Newt as the man enters. The two begin to exchange words before finally the man directs a question at Hermione and Newt.

"Where'd she pick you two up?" He asks clearly agitated.

"Me?" Both Hermione and Newt ask at the same time causing them to share a small smile and laugh as their shocked eyes meet.

Paying no attention to the self-important little man and Tina, still safely hidden behind her desk, short laughs escape their lips, their eyes shining with merriment. The man clearly agitated with the lack of information and more than a little annoyed by their behaviour turns his attention once more to Tina.

"Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?" The question causes Hermione and Newts laughter to abruptly come to an end.

"Of course not, Sir." Tina responds thoroughly chastised.

 _Second Salemers... where have I heard that name before._ Hermione begins to muse as the sound of approaching footsteps once again fill the room, pulling her from her thoughts. All eyes settle on the smartly dressed man as he enters.

 _1920's New York certainly has no shortage of attractive men._ She thinks as her eyes trace his frame. A handsome, clearly middle-aged man stands before them. Despite a number of small cuts and bruises on his exposed face he's attractive, an air of intense confidence and power coils about him. His presence somewhat suffocating.

"Afternoon, Mr. Graves, sir!" the pompous little man greets obviously cowed.

"Afternoon, ah-Abernathy." Graves acknowledges, struggling to remember the little mans name.

"Mr. Graves, sir, this is Mr. Scamander and Miss ah-Hermione-he has a crazy creature in that case and it got out and caused mayhem in a bank, sir. Also I believe Miss-Hermione to be his accomplice-I found the two conspiring in an abandoned street beside the bank, sir." Tina steps forward eagerly, speaking quickly, eager to have her case heard.

"Oh, Honestly-" Hermione begins irritated before her words fail her as Graves turns his dark eyes to her, falling on her face. His shrewd gaze casing her person, an amused smirk curving his lips as he takes her in, studying what she's sure to be her dishevelled appearance and torn, mildly burnt and bloody blouse.

 _Graves... Why is that name so familiar..._ She thinks a light blush covering her cheeks as she meets his gaze. _Think Granger! Think! No time to be acting like a blushing school girl with her first crush!_

"Let's see the little guy." He intones casually, turning to Tina once more.

A sigh of relief escapes Tina's lips. From the corner of her eye Hermione notes that Newt looks as though he's about to protest. His expression panicked, more panic than warranted if all one had to hide was a Niffler.

 _Ah, more than just a Niffler in that case of yours Mr. Scamander. No surprise there._ Hermione thinks with more than a small amount of amusement.

Graves dismisses Newt's expression before Tina throws the case on the table and throws open the lid. Her face aghast. Hermione's brows furrow as her and Newt approach. Abernathy remains in the back.

 _Pastries?_ A look of confusion crosses her face followed swiftly by one of understanding. Newt looks horrified. Graves, confused though seemingly amused. Abernathy strains forward in confusion.

"Tina..." Graves starts before walking away. The three remaining Wizards share a look.

"Bit of a mix up then?" Hermione can't help but say an amused look on her face.

* * *

On the Lower East Side within a shabby building, in a tiny, dirty room, with sparse and shabby furnishings sits Newt Scamander's case. The catches of said case flick open of their own accord before the case begins to shake, aggressive animalistic sounds filling the small room.

The lone occupant a muggle man slowly backs away from the shaking case before tentatively leaning forward... suddenly the lid flies open and out bursts a rat-like creature with an anemone-style growth on its back. The creature known to the wizarding world as a Murtlap, its tentacle like appendages on its back an important component in the creation of Murtlap Essence.

As the muggle grapples with the feisty creature the case once more flies open, an invisible creature escaping its confines, crashing into the ceiling before smashing through the window startling those passing on the street below. The Murtlap lunges forward, biting Jacob on the neck, sending them both crashing and tumbling to the floor. The room continues to shake, a picture an old woman crashing to the floor, the glass broken as more creatures escape the magical case.

* * *

At the same time in the Main Hall of the Second Salem Church a young girl with blonde hair plays a solitary version of hopscotch, skipping in and out of a chalked grid, her girlish, innocent voice reciting an eerie rhyme.

"My momma, your momma, gonna catch a witch," _A heavy hand grasping a young girls arm in a bruising grasp, the man pulls her to his side, his other hand raised and ready to strike. Books pulling themselves from the shelves, lifting into the air around the two players, circling them slowly, floating to the ceiling in a stunning display of accidental magic._

"My momma, your momma, flying on a switch," _A young man angles his broom towards to the ground on the Quidditch field of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his eyes following a small golden snitch, he dives._

"My momma, your momma, witches never cry," _An old woman sits in a dark room, the steady flames of a fire cast the room in a golden glow. Held tight in her age weathered hands is an old black and white moving photo of a young man and woman. Tears gather in her eyes, falling in steady streams down her lined face._

"My momma, your momma, witches gonna die!" _A sickly green jet of light hits a middle-aged woman in the centre of her chest. Her mouth frozen in a silent scream, eyes wide as the life is stolen from her. An expression frozen in time. She falls to the ground with a dull thud, dust filling the air._

A large anti-witchcraft banner hangs proud on the wall behind the girl, it's message clear.

* * *

 _Why am I still here..._ Hermione sighs in her mind as she follows close behind Newt and Tina on a busy street of the Lower East Side. The case full of pastries clutched in Tina's white knuckled hand.

"I can't believe you didn't obliviate that man! If there's an inquiry, i'm finished!" Tina exclaims on the verge of tears.

Hermione scoffs earning herself a nasty glare from the distraught American witch. Unconcerned, she raises her gaze to the sky as a small, blue, flying creature catches her eye. It hovers an inch or two above her, its helicopter like wings spinning atop its head.

 _Billywig. Native to Australia, one of Newts then._ Her mind supplies quickly assessing the creature. With seeker like reflexes, honed in the field catching a variety of dangerous creatures as opposed to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione's hands dart out lightly pinching its spinning wings between her pointer finger and thumb. She holds it steady, careful of its thin stinger as it squirms in an attempt to escape.

 _Not the best time to start randomly levitating._ She smiles at the Billywig as she discreetly summons her wand into her hand, her magic singing as skin meets wood. With a practised motion she stuns the small creature cupping it lightly in her palm, minding the stinger, before surging forward to meet the other two.

Saddling up beside Newt she nudges him lightly with her shoulder. He looks down at her with an arched brow, his blue eyes landing on her outstretched palm, his eyes widening, an attractive smile full of gratitude and surprise tugging at his lips. His gaze darts to Tina quickly, who is conveniently focused elsewhere, his tongue poking out from between his lips, licking their seam.

An attractive blush settles across Hermione's cheeks as she follows the path of his tongue as if in slow motion. Her teeth worrying her lip, mouth suddenly dry like a piece of parchment paper. A shuddering breath escapes her lips as their eyes meet once more.

 _Captivating._ She thinks as he reaches out, his hand gentle removing the Billywig from her palm. Rough, calloused fingers glide across the smooth skin of her palm causing a pleasant spark of excitement, and is that pleasure... to fill her belly.

"Thank you." he says simply.

The overwhelming amount of gratitude filling his quiet voice as he leans over to whisper in her ear, his warm breath caressing the oh so sensitive skin of her ear causing that spark to spike, butterfly's filling her stomach, millions of wings beating against her rapidly warming skin, heart racing. She licks her lips once more, desperate for water. His blue eyes darken slightly as they follow the path of her tongue. The light pink appendage settling a sheen of moisture on her bitten lips. He struggles to clear his throat.

They both avert their gaze as they round a corner. There they find a crowd gathered in front of a crumbling building. People are shouting, others hurriedly evacuating the building. A policeman stands in the centre of the crowd, the buildings residents disgruntled and questioning. The three wizards move around the outskirts of the crowd. The sound of the commotion filling their ears.

A clearly intoxicated man struggles to explain to the officer what he had seen only moments before.

Both Hermione and Newt move towards the man, Tina unaware as she stands looking up at the ruined building. Newt slides his wand from his sleeve before pointing it at the man, unnoticed by all but Hermione. He murmurs a spell under his breath.

"-gas. It was gas." The man corrects himself as the magic washes over him.

The others in the crowd quickly agree.

With that, taking advantage of Tina's distraction, Newt runs up the metal steps and inside the ruined building, Hermione hot on his heels.

* * *

Newt and Hermione enter the now ruined room, pausing in order to take in the scene. It's a mess. Broken furniture, shattered glass on the floor, a massive, gaping hole punched through the wall as if something huge blasted its way out. A groan sounds from the corner. A pair of dirt stained shoes peeking out from behind a dresser.

Hermione looks on as Newt crouches beside the shaking, groaning man who's wearing an ill-fitting suit, his back to the room. Stepping further into the small room Hermione watches as Newt tries to examine a small red bite on the man's neck as the man unconsciously bats him away.

"Reparo" Hermione's calm voice fills the room, her hand moving as she focuses on directing the charm.

The room is righted, the wall repaired. Newt hurries past Hermione to the bed, grabbing his case before sitting. Hermione drops the charm, her arm falling to her sides as her eyes settle on Newt and the beaten brown case resting in his lap as he calmly seals the latches on his case just as Tina hurries into the room.

"It was open?" Tina questions in an agitated voice.

"Just a smidge..." He explains much to Hermione's amusement.

 _A smidge?_ She scoffs mentally laughter bubbling in her chest as she turns from the two to check in on the muggle still groaning in the corner.

"That crazy Niffler thing's on the loose again?" Tina asks, irked.

"Er-it might be-" Hermione does chuckle quietly now as she pries the muggles collar from his neck with gentle fingers.

"Then look for it! Look!" Tina exclaims with a shriek.

The muggle man groans as Hermione's finger gently prod the bleeding bite on his neck. His groan catching Tina's attention causing her to rush over to Hermione and the man.

"His neck's bleeding, he's hurt!" She intones, worried, from above Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione turns her head meeting Tina's worried, angry gaze. Her eyes flickering to Newt's retreating form as he makes for the exit before turning to Hermione as if torn. His eyes flickering between her and the door, attempting to make a decision.

 _Ah-there's that Hufflepuff nature, a loyal one isn't he. Perhaps a small push in the right direction..._ She pursues her lips, a little hurt that he even thought of leaving her behind to deal with this mess. She's about to call to him when suddenly the Murtlap comes scuttling out from under a cabinet, launching itself at her body before latching onto her arm. Hermione stumbles to her feet, startled, a noise of surprise pushing from her lips.

 _Well, that caught his attention. S_ he pivots, accidentally knocking Tina into the wall. Newt spins around his eyes falling on Hermione's form once more. He moves forward as if to help. She stares at the squirming creature before gripping its tail tight in her free hand, prying it's body from her arm, before tossing it the short distance to Newt.

 _It would serve him right if it latched to his face._ She thinks recalling his attempt to escape.

 _To be fair he was torn. He may have chosen to stay..._ A small voice reminds her.

With wide eyes he catches the Murtlap, grappling it into the case before closing it with a snap.

"A Murtlap, really? What other wonders live in that case of yours Mr. Scamander-" Hermione teases her irritation with him mostly forgotten, choosing instead to focus on her amusement with the entire ludicrous situation.

A tiny embarrassed smile graces his face, his eyes on the floor as he hugs his case tight to his chest. Unnoticed by either of them Tina stands against the wall, frozen, her mouth open in shock.

"You!" The man in the corner shouts, his eyes now open, recognizing Newt it would seem.

"Hello." Newt greets the man as if there's nothing out of the ordinary here.

"Easy, Mr.-" Tina begins, pushing herself off the wall, slowly approaching the man, kneeling beside him.

"Kowalski... Jacob..." The man supplies.

Tina takes Jacob's hand to shake it, Newt approaches, stopping beside Hermione before raising his wand. All at once; Jacob recoils in fear, clutching at Tina, who moves her body in front of him protectively as Hermione places her hand gently on Newts extended wand hand, warmth gathering where their skin meets, as she applies pressure, urging him to lower his wand. He shoots her a questioning look, his mouth opening as if to speak as she pulls her hand back, dropping it to her side.

"You can't Obliviate him! We need him as a witness." Tina shouts drawing their attention once more.

"The Murtlap bit him." Hermione starts in way of explanation.

"He'll be fine. Murtlap bites aren't serious." Looking between the two women he shrugs slightly as he puts his wand away, lightly dismissing their protests while still complying. A retching sound fills the room, Tina looks at Newt in disbelief.

"All the same. He was sweating... rather profusely." Hermione says mirroring his shrug as she meets his gaze. A low sigh escapes his lips.

"I admit that is a slightly more severe reaction than i've seen, but if it was really serious-he'd have..." He starts.

"What?" Tina questions urgently.

"Well, the first first symptom would be flames out of his anus-" Newt answers awkwardly, a bit reluctant.

 _Not likely._ Her mind supplies. Hermione watches the corner of her mouth pulled up as Jacob feels around the seat of his pants, terrified.

Tina makes a disgruntled noise.

 _Poor Man._ Hermione thinks, opening her mouth to reassure him that he'll be just fine. Before she can get a word in Newt speaks up once more.

"It'll last forty-eight hours at most! I can keep him if you want me to-" He argues simply.

" _Can I keep him?"_ An old memory of one of her first trips to the Magical Menagerie fills her mind.

 _Young Children milling about the shop, a small girl a few years younger than Hermione, walks up to the row of caged cats. She points to a sleek black, turning to her parents._

" _Can I keep him?" She asks. The parents chuckle._

"-We don't keep them! Mr. Scamander, do you know _anything_ about the wizarding community in America?" Tina rages.

"I do know a few things, actually. I know you have rather backwards laws about relations with non-magic people. That you're not meant to befriend them, that you can't marry them, which seems mildly absurd to me." Newt explains in a huff.

Jacob remains on the floor, following the conversation open mouthed. Tension fills the room as the two wizards stare one another down. The silence is broken as short laugh escapes Hermione's lips.

 _Not much has changed in wizarding America. That said, I may very well be going mad._ She thinks

Three pairs of baffled eyes settle on her person as she regains her composure.

 _Keep him indeed. Our very own muggle_. And with that thought her composure slips once more.


	7. Breathtaking

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belong to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction and I in no way claim to own any of the ideas or content directly taken from the Fantastic Beasts film or Screenplay.

 **Author Note:** Alright just to be clear. Anytime I use italics it's Hermione's thoughts unless explicitly stated otherwise. With that said, thank you everyone for the reviews! I truly appreciate each and every one of them!

corie.f: Look forward to more Newt x Hermione interactions in the future! I'm definitely glad the potential for hotness is coming through in my writing... that's what I was aiming for!

* * *

A young boy's led by his father down a busy street on the Upper East Side. A large lollipop clutched tight in his small fist. As they pass a fruit stand, a large bright red apple levitates into the air, bobbing along beside the boy as they walk. He follow its path with his eyes full of wonder, watching as a large bite is taken from the apple, an audible crunch filling the air. The boys smile fades, a pout gracing his lips as his lollipop is snatched from his hand by an invisible force.

Along the skyline a little ways away in the distance a thin blue tale slithers inside a small attic. The roof shakes, tiles falling the structure settles once more.

* * *

 _I really should be leaving-Though it's not as though I have any place to go... A broken time turner, 1926, New York City... Time Turners haven't even been invented yet! Even more to the point, the research into time magic hasn't even begun!_ Hermione has a one sided, mental argument with herself as she watches the scene play out before her.

After disapparating away from Mr. Kowalski's apartment, the ragtag group of four made their way to Ms. Goldstein's apartment, a small apartment filled with magic in the middle of New York, where they then met Tina's younger sister, Queenie.

Queenie Goldstein, a beautiful young woman about Hermione's age, only an inch or two taller, with perfectly styled strawberry blonde hair, fair skin and stunning pair of greyish green eyes.

Which brings us to the the current predicament.

 _Trapped._ Hermione stands in the middle of the room unsure of what to do, her eyes dancing from one person to the next.

 _Displaced in time._ Newt looks out the window, eyes searching, as if in a hurry to leave.

 _Lost._ Suddenly Jacob stumbles sweat coating his skin, clearly unwell. The motion catches the eye of all the rooms occupants. Queenie rushes to him, Tina hovering in the background as he falls onto the sofa.

"You need to sit down, honey." Queenie intones in a sweet voice before continuing her stare steady and soft on Jacobs sweating, shaking form.

"Hey-he hasn't eaten all day. And-aw, that's rough,-he didn't get the money he wanted for his bakery. You bake, honey? I love to cook." She carries on as though having a conversation with herself.

 _Odd._ Hermione furrows her brow staring at the woman, her curiosity roused.

Queenie holds the attention of the room and this time for something more than her beauty or state of dress. Newt turns from the window his interest piqued.

"You're a Legilimens?" He asks, though it's really more of a statement.

 _Bugger!_ A quiet gasp escapes Hermione's lips, the pieces clicking into place. A feeling of dread overwhelming her senses. Luckily none of the rooms occupants pay her any mind.

"Uh-huh, yeah. But I always have trouble with your kind. Brits. It's the accent." She supplies looking from Newt to Hermione in turn before focusing her attention once more on Jacob.

Though the expression on her face betrays nothing, Hermione's palms begin to sweat, her mind racing. Now, once again unnoticed by the room she begins to slowly inch her way towards the door.

 _Thrown backwards in time, a head full of knowledge, sensitive knowledge. Knowledge that pertains to the future and suddenly trapped in a room with a skilled Legilimens-Could this day get any worse!?_ Her mind practically screams.

Unbeknownst to her one person is watching her still. Newts eyes following her every move, his brows furrowed a look of intense concentration on his face, as well as a healthy dose of suspicion.

"You know how to read minds?" Jacob asks, appalled.

 _A bit more than just that if she's reading yours with such ease._ Hermione thinks attempting to control her breathing, one sweaty palm closing around the naked chain about her neck. Pulling at it with desperate fingers.

Newts eyes track her movements, the cogs of his mind rapidly moving.

Once more recalling its fate her hand drops before settling on the pocket of her trousers. Slipping her hand within, fingers finding purchase on the broken, warped remains of the time turner.

Her time turner. The one she was given in third year, before being gifted to her once more in the wake of the war. She hardly registers the pain as the jagged pieces cut into her skin.

Newt watches as she pulls a bloody hand from her pocket, wiping the evidence on the dark black fabric of her pants, a small smudge staining her crimson coloured blouse. The spot now a shade darker. Narrowing his eyes he begins to slowly, cautiously move towards the now visibly shaken woman.

"Aw, don't worry, honey. Most guys think what you was thinking, first time they see me." Queenie laughs before playfully gesturing towards Jacob with her wand.

"Now, you need food." She says making her way into the kitchen, Tina following her.

The two women busy themselves in the kitchen, magic doing much of the work for them as Jacob watches with wide eyes.

Hermione's fingers wrap around the cool metal of the doorknob, a turn away from freedom, her mind momentarily flashing to the night she left Ron, sadness washing over her.

 _Harry, Ron, George, Ginny, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley... They have no idea where i've gone. Have they noticed i'm missing yet_? She thinks sucking in a deep breath, the familiar sting of unshed tears reaching her through the haze.

She begins to turn the doorknob when suddenly a large calloused hand closes around her wrist, halting the motion. The spark that hadn't made its presence known since earlier that day once again fills her stomach. A tingling sensation, reaching out from the place their skin meets, racing along the skin of her arm making all of the hairs stand at attention.

His hand slides gently but firmly from wrist to hand, cupping her hand with a heavy palm. She turns her head quickly. Wild, watery eyes met with the site of a golden waistcoat. Her eyes focus on the glittering golden threads interwoven on the piece of fabric, her breath catching.

 _He's so close, so very close._ His hand closed over her own, curving his body slightly to cage her in, his overcoat brushing against her body, the thin fabric of her clothing doing little to ease the sensation. Slowly she raises her head, hand relaxing on the door knob until with a shaky breath she meets his eyes.

Newt's bent slightly at the waist, face lowered towards her own. From this distance she can see his freckles so clearly. The small marks with no discernible pattern making him appear younger, more innocent, less worldly. But his eyes, those brilliant blue eyes had changed. Gone was the awkward and adorable young man she met earlier today. In his place stood the man who would soon help to defeat Gellert Grindelwald for the first time. His stare freezing her in place.

He opened his mouth a question dying before it's born, a small unintelligible sound escaping his parted lips as the spark roars to life. A blistering inferno in her gut, raging wildly. Her skin feels as though its burning, a slow, torturous burn engulfing her body. The heat even more present and persistent where their skin meets. A strange and unusual feeling fills her, making her feel as though she'll burst. A knotted sensation settling in the centre of the flame, aching to be unravelled.

A gasp escapes her lips, eyes wide and focused on a pair of stunning blue. She recognizes the look of shock and confusion crossing his features, a look she imagines is mirrored in her own eyes.

 _Does he feel this too..._ She questions, the single thought breaking through, eyes still locked, breathing in sync. It feels as though all the blood in her body has rushed to her head, waves crashing, the rest of the world melting away. All that's left, two strangers, yet not.

 _Focus._ Her mind curses. Body stiffening, she pulls her hand from his grip, biting back the moan that begs for release as his rough fingers drag across the top of her lightly scarred hand. The sensation eases. The spell waning. Neither move, breathing heavily now, eyes connected. Newt is the first to regain his senses and a low voice full of gravel fills the air.

"What was that?" He questions a touch of fear but also intrigue in his eyes, licking his lips, one quick lick before it disappears again, the small appendage finding refuge between his parted lips. Hermione missed it instantly. She found herself shaking with need, an overwhelming urge to learn if those lips truly were as soft as they looked filling her.

"I wish I knew." Hermione responds in a breathless voice, aching to reach for him once more.

"Hey, Mr. Scamander-Hermione, you prefer pie or strudel?" Queenie calls into the room her greyish green eyes settled on the pair, a smile curving her lips.

The two jump apart embarrassed and red in the face as Tina and Jacob follow Queenie's stare.

"I-ah-I don't really have a preference" Newt manages before clearing his throat, looking to Hermione from behind his fringe.

"Ah-Likewise." Hermione finishes lamely, a blush further colouring her cheeks.

Looking into the kitchen Hermione notices that Jacob is now seated at the table, a napkin tucked into his shirt, a dopey sort of smile on his face as he watches Queenie.

"You prefer strudel, huh, honey? Strudel it is." At her statement Jacob nods enthusiastically earning himself a grin from a satisfied Queenie.

With a flick of her wand, and a stunning display of magic all eyes watch as she creates the strudel, mixing, building and baking all taking place mid-air before their very eyes.

"Well, sit down you two, were not going to poison you." Tina states settling herself into her seat, her gaze flickering between Newt and Hermione, a look of mild suspicion making it home across her features.

* * *

Somewhere in New York, in a dark, abandoned alley way, late at night stand two men, heads bent, bodies close, a secret conversation being had.

"You're upset. It's your mother again. Somebody's said something-what did they say? Tell me." The Auror, Director of Magical Security and head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement inquires of the younger man.

"Do you think i'm a freak?" The young man with a rather unfortunate haircut asks, voice insecure and quiet.

"No-I think you're a very special young man or I wouldn't have asked you to help me, now would I?" Graves comforts the young man.

Silence fills the air as a pause punctuates the conversation. Graves brings his hand up to rest atop the young man's arm.

"Have you any news?" Graves asks, tone urgent.

"I'm still looking. Mr. Graves, if I knew whether it was a girl or boy-" The young man starts in way of explanation.

"My vision showed only the child's immense power. He or she is no older than ten, and I saw this child in close proximity to your mother-she I saw so plainly." Graves cuts in.

"That could be any one of hundreds." The young man replies at a loss.

"There is something else. Something I haven't told you. I saw you beside me in New York. You're the one that gains this child's trust. You are the key-" Graves states his tone softening, comforting the young man.

"I saw this. You want to join the wizarding world. I want those things too, Credence. I want them for you. So find the child. Find the child and we'll all be free." He urges continuing his speech.

Conversation coming to an end, Graves drops his hand from the young man's arm. A look of sadness crossing the young boy's face at the loss of contact. The two part ways, disappearing into the night.

* * *

After sharing a delicious meal, during which Queenie and Jacob got on famously. Much of the awkward silence being filled by their flirting and playful banter as Tina, Hermione and Newt looked on uncomfortably for much of the conversation, the group split. Jacob and Newt lead to the backroom by Tina where they were offered to bunk for the night, leaving Queenie and Hermione alone.

This decision leading to a rather awkward few moments in which Hermione avoided Queenie's eyes at all costs well reciting every single potions ingredient she could recall in her head as the pleasant young woman attempted to make small talk. All of which culminating in an offer from Queenie for Hermione to freshen up a bit. The young woman's eyes taking stock of Hermione's frenzied state.

Queenie then showed her to her room for the evening before leading her to the bathroom. Once safely in the bathroom away from prying eyes Hermione dropped her purse on top of the closed toilet before looking into the mirror hanging above the sink.

 _Merlin._ She couldn't help but gape at her appearance.

Her once neat bun atop her head could hardly be called such in its current state. A mass of straining curls at the nap of her neck, tangled in a clump, a few stray flyaways sticking up at awkward angles, large, tangled strands framing her face, brushing her collarbone. Her brown eyes, wide, wild and fairly bloodshot stared back at her. A small amount of mascara smudged to the side of her familiar scar under her left eye. Her complexion pale, making her freckles stand out even more against her skin.

Turning on the taps, cupping her hands to collect the cold water she bends at the waist before splashing her face with water. A small sound of protest escaping her parted lips as the cold water washes over her skin. Scrubbing her face before reaching for a hand towel, with a shuddering sigh she dries her face before looking in the mirror once more. Pulling the hair elastic from her tangled hair with a fair amount of difficulty her nimble fingers get to work on untangling the worst of her hair as she takes further stock of her person.

The collar of her crimson blouse torn, burnt and stained a shade darker. Her black trousers though clean at first glance feeling gritty and stained. Dropping her hands from her hair she strips off her now ruined blouse and trousers with rushed hands. Standing in nothing more than a simply pair of matching undergarments she examines her newest mark. In the centre of her chest, between her breasts is an angry red burn, the skin broken by a number of small scratched. With a hiss of air she touches the mark, a single finger tracing the trail of a small incision before wetting the hand towel, gently cleaning the wound, pulling any stray glass shards from the cuts. Stepping away from the mirror she slips open the face of her black leather purse, shoving an arm, elbow deep into its depths. Knocking a few items away, her finger wrapping around a small glass phial with a sound of triumph. Pulling her arm from the bag she examines the label, her familiar scrawl reads: Essence of Dittany. Setting it aside she plunges her arm once more into the depths before pulling out a change of clothes.

She makes her way to the mirror, arms full. Setting the clothing aside she uncaps the phial of brown-coloured liquid, applying a small amount to her chest.

Greenish smoke billows as the potion makes quick work of her wound. Once cleared she examines her chest, the wound now looking to be several days old. Reaching into the pockets of her now removed trousers she cups the broken remains of her time turner, wincing as it cuts into her hand before pulling it from the pocket, dropping it on the counter. Once more she applies the Essence of Dittany to her cut and bleeding hands, the process repeated before capping the phial and setting it aside.

 _Ruined._ With a sigh she pulls the naked chain from her neck and wraps it and the mangled remains of the time turner in her now ruined blouse. Stowing both the shirt, trousers and phial of Dittany in her purse. She pulls on a new pair of dark, tight fitting, high waisted trousers up over her toned legs and lightly curved hips securing them in place before slipping a cream coloured blouse over her head, tucking the hem into the waist of her pants. Smoothing her hands over her hair once more she sighs.

 _Good enough._ She thinks collecting her purse once more, shutting on the lights before leaving the room.

* * *

After exiting the bathroom Hermione quietly makes her way through the small apartment, holding her breath as she passes the room Queenie and Tina are sharing for the evening before coming to a stop at the door housing Jacob and Newt. With an intake of air she raises her hand to knock before thinking better of it.

Quietly, slowly she turns the doorknob pushing the door open without a sound. Peeking her head in she notices to room is empty, the occupants gone. Stepping into the room, closing the door silently behind her she takes a breath.

Newts beaten brown case lies on the floor in the centre of the room. Approaching she drops to her knees before the case, fingers lightly touching the clasps. Smoothing her fingers across the worn leather before flicking the catches open, lifting the top. Peering into the darkness she stands before easing herself into the case.

* * *

After a bit of a nasty spill into the case, during which she collided with a variety of objects, instruments and bottles. She righted herself, checking her person for any further cuts and scratches before dusting herself off. With a nod she decides that nothing seems to be out of place on her person. Unbeknownst the her, her fifty-second edition copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them had fallen from her bag during the tumble. Making itself at home on a cluttered counter full of phials and other nick nacks just below the stairs.

 _Amazing._ Hermione breaths taking in the small wooden shed around her.

A camp bed lays against one wooden wall, gear for every sort of environment and climate is strewn about, various tools hanging in rows upon the wall. Wooden cupboards break the line of tools, their contents, a variety of rope, nets, potions ingredients and mostly empty jars. An old typewriter, even older than the current 20's style models sits in a corner on a desk, a pile of manuscripts, and medieval bestiary surrounding it. With wide eyes Hermione approaches the corner, gentle fingers caressing the pages.

 _History!_ She squeals in her mind desperate to explore the pages further, to dive head first into the words, absorbing the information held within.

 _So much of history is lost to time! What lost words and stories could be found within!_ With a soft sigh she removes her hand.

 _Perhaps another time._ She thinks moving further into the room.

Rows of pills and tablets, syringes and vials form a medicine chest. Her fingers dance over its contents. Her eyes taking stock of the notes, maps and drawings tacked to the walls.

A smile curving her lips, eyes bright as she takes in a moving photograph of a Ukranian Ironbelly. What she knows to be it's metallic grey and silver scales catching the light, despite the image being printed in black and white, wings flexing as it tilts its head to the sky, snout open wide as fire bathes the scene.

Beneath it a moving photo of a group of Cornish Pixie's sits. One particular pixie is pressed up against the camera as if grabbing it, its mouth pulled into a grin, sharp teeth at the ready, black, bottomless eyes wide and filled with mischief staring straight out.

The memory of their lesson with Professor Lockhart in second-year making itself known, a hint of sadness and longing filling her senses.

 _A childhood long lost, forced to grow up too soon._ Loss yet again, thrown 70 plus years into the past, the faces of her friends and family a distant memory. The faces of children and later adults yet to be born.

Shaking her head she moves from the room focusing the animalistic sounds coming from just beyond the small shacks door. She opens the door and steps through.

* * *

"Breathtaking." She breaths aloud her brown eyes filled with wonder as she takes in the various habitats before her.

 _I wonder what sort of alterations he made to his Undetectable Extension Charm in order to create such an elaborate piece of magic._ She muses, eyes tracing the perimeter of the leather case dimly visible in the distance.

 _Perhaps he'd share if I asked nicely._ She giggles looking into the closest habitat.

A slice of the Arizona Desert stands, self sustained in place. A warm air rushes over her person causing her push her sleeves up, rolling them neatly to the elbow. Her mouth drops open as she watches a Thunderbird circle above. Its intelligent eyes focused on her, clear, even from such a distance. It's glorious shimmering, patterned wings spread wide, gliding in the air beneath the hot artificial sun. It lets out a cry, uncaring of Hermione's presence as it swoops and turns, gliding through the air. Shimmering golden strands streaking its body. The fantastic beast flaps its wings causing Hermione to brace herself as a great wind dances around her. Suddenly the habitat fills with a torrential downpour, thunder and lightening filling the sky. Uncaring of the rain soaking into her clothes, smoothing her wild curls she continues to follow its movements enthralled until finally with a shake of her head she moves on.

Walking further into the magical case full of breathtaking beasts and other magical creatures. She ascends a small ramp of stairs, entering a wooded area densely populated with bamboo trees. Weaving in and out of the tress before emerging into a sunlit glade. A small tree bathed in sunlight catches her eye, high pitched chattering filling the air. She moves slowly towards the tree an excited huff of breath escaping her lips as a clan of Bowtruckles rush out of the leaves, greeting her upon her arrival. Their small twig like bodies swinging and swaying in the wind. She reaches a hand towards the tree a startled sound escaping her lips as one of the Bowtruckles leap onto her outstretched hand before scuttling up her outstretched arm into her rapidly drying, bushy hair.

She laughs as the remaining four clack noisily as if in protest motioning in her direction. A quiet chattering from the Bowtruckle in hair filling her ears. Reaching up her fingers lightly prod the Bowtruckle, its small spindly plant like hands wrap around her pointer finger.

"Come on then." she urges the little creature in an attempt to coax it form her hair.

Its chattering increases, a few clacking noises punctuating its impassioned speech. A hard tug on her hair gets its point across.

It will not be leaving. With a low chuckle she drops her hand allowing the little creature to join her for now.

"Just until we find Mr. Scamander and Jacob." She promises setting off once again.


	8. Closer

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belong to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction and I in no way claim to own any of the ideas or content directly taken from the Fantastic Beasts film or Screenplay.

 **Author Note:** This may be my last update this week, I have a friends Christmas Party tomorrow and I know i'm going to have one hell of a hangover on Sunday... So that being said look forward to next week though if you're lucky I may get another one out tomorrow or Sunday depending on how much I write between now and tomorrow night.

feline17: Don't give me ideas! ;P Now I have ideas for a one shot involving a 7th year Hermione and Newt somehow stumbling into a broom closet for a hot snog running through my head! I'm certainly glad the hotness of this pairing is coming through, I was really hoping my writing would properly convey the image I had in my own head. I'm a pretty visual person myself so you need to be able to see any good story or scene played out vividly in your imagination! Also your english is very good! ndavis77: Deeper interactions will be coming up real soon! Promise! Melissa Elizabeth Granger: Thank you for the kind words! Greetings from Canada!

You all are making me blush! As always i truly do appreciate all of you taking the time to send in reviews, comments and compliments. I read every single one of them... a few times actually... I'm very glad you all are finding the story engaging and interesting! I honestly loved the film and don't want to change all that much of the events... I just think it needs a bit of Hermione/Newt action in there. The story will pretty faithfully follow the events until the end of the film... i'll be going off on my own from the point the film ends though.

* * *

Hermione hears the voices of Jacob and Newt a short distance away as she makes her way farther into the case. Her new Bowtruckle friend chattering amicably in her ear.

 _Almost there. S_ he thinks her face upturned watching as Doxy's, Glow bugs, and Grindylows float through the air. A Nundu stands on a large rock hungrily devouring a meal of fresh meat. The sound of twittering draws her attention to the ground where a little ways off a small, plump Diricawl waddles past, followed closely by her constantly apparating chicks.

"Hey! Oh, hello, fellas-all right-all right." Her eyes fall on Jacob bathed in moonlight standing atop a rock ledge, surrounded by little Mooncalves.

A wide smile graces her lips at the scene. More Mooncalves jump and hop down the rocks towards Jacob, friendly, hopeful faces with huge eyes that fill their entire faces stare up at the charmed muggle.

"Take it easy-take it easy" He chuckles throwing pellets towards the friendly creatures.

His joy is obvious. Wonder filling his eyes, a large smiling stretching across his face as he feeds the Mooncalves. The sight fills her heart with hope. Searching the area Hermione's eyes come to a stop on Newts form. He stands a little ways off his sleeves now rolled up to the elbow, tie undone, the first few buttons of his shirt open, his overcoat now gone giving Hermione a view of his lightly muscled forearms.

She licks her lips at the exposed hint of tantalizing skin near his throat mouth growing dry before her curious brown eyes fall upon the creature cradled in his arms.

 _Magical._ A luminescent creature sprouting alien-like tendrils sits in his arms being bottle fed by Newt as he watches Jacob carefully, taking note of how he handles the Mooncalves. A look of hope and joy filling his blue eyes. An expression so similar to her own.

"There you go, cutie. Ah, there it is." Jacob coos at the Mooncalves in the background.

Hermione watches as Newt walks further into the case his arms still full of the luminescent creature. With one last look at Jacob she follows quickly, quietly behind Newts retreating form. Pushing aside a piece of fabric, she walks through the flap, squinting her eyes as they adjust to the darkened space, the only light source coming from the handful of luminescent creatures near a glowing pool of water, hidden beneath the equally luminescent foliage filling the dark space. Golden sparks float about the air like pollen in the wind. Twisting and winding in the most hypnotizing patterns. She watches as Newt sets the creature down, urging it to join its friends, a gentle smile on his face before turning in her direction. His eyes widening in recognition as they fall on her form.

"Hermione?-" He asks surprise leaking into his voice.

"A rather impressive piece of magic you have here Mr. Scamander. I must say I find myself a touch jealous, and very much impressed." She says in way of greeting, truly meaning every single word.

Even in the darkened room she can see how his cheeks colour with an embarrassed but flattered blush as he makes his way towards her with long, steady strides. The Bowtruckle hidden in her mane chatters noisily, angry clacks increasing in volume as Newt draws near. The Bowtruckles angry clacks are met by a more subdued chattering coming from the breast pocket of Newts shirt. A small green head pops up, the leaves atop its head shaking.

Newt looks down in question at the little Bowtruckle in his pocket as he comes to a stop in front of Hermione. With a few tugs on her curls the little Bowtruckle in her hair makes its presence known. Newts eyes light up with mirth, a laugh tumbling from his lips as his eyes fall on the creature in her hair, swinging between two righteous curls like some sort of amazon.

"Poppy!" he exclaims the joy clear in his voice as he steps closer a hand reaching out, fingers brushing her curls aside gently as he strokes the chattering Bowtruckles head.

"Oh now don't-" he starts only to be cut off, a bemused look crossing his face.

"Poppy?" Hermione asks unable to stop the shocked question falling from her lips, voice somewhat shrill.

"Her name." He explains simply, eyes falling once more to the seemingly incensed Bowtruckle.

"And mines Newt by the way. You can't keep carrying on calling me Mr. Scamander as though i'm some old man." He continues with a laugh before dropping his hand, straightening his back.

 _An old man..._ a giggle tickles her throat at the thought. _Not quite yet, I suppose._

Her fingers unconsciously reach for the Bowtruckle swinging in her hair, her fingers gently touching its plant like skin, worrying her lip between her teeth.

 _Poppy. Of course._ The small giggle escapes her mouth now. _Over 70 years in the past yet her own past- or would it be future now... seems so very close._

Still occupied with her inner musings, Hermione misses the look that crosses Newts face as his eyes fall on her exposed left forearm. The luminescent lighting casting her skin in metallic glow. His blue eyes darkening with anger as he takes in the crudely carved slur, a silvery, raised scar dwarfing the number of other small scars and bite marks that adorn the naked skin of her arm. One little word, eight characters long but with the heaviest of meanings.

"Newt" Hermione says with a bit of wonder as she breaks from her thoughts.

 _Newt... Newt. Newt! Oh nothing out of the ordinary here, just spending time with my good friend, Newt bloody Scamander!_ Her smile stretches wide at the ludicrous thought, eyes falling on his face.

A look of confusion and irritation fills her face as she notes his attention is elsewhere. Following his line of sight her brown eyes widen as they fall on her exposed forearm. The crudely carved word spelling _Mudblood,_ entirely exposed and clear as day.

 _No._ She thinks as her opposing hand moves of its own accord covering the scar with a slightly shaking hand.

The movement catches Newts attention. Drawing his gaze to her own. Her jaw set in a stubborn line, lips pursed, eyes defiant and proud as brown meet blue is a swirl of emotion. Time seems to stop as they engage in a silent staring contest. The air around them feeling thick. His eyes soften, though it isn't pity or disgust held within their depths as one may very well expect.

 _Empathy._ Her mind supplies. Though their circumstances differ, one a muggle-born the other a pure-blood, neither is unfamiliar with adversity. Silently, without word he reaches out as if to touch her arm before thinking better of it. Dropping his hand he clears his throat, the spell broken. And finally she feels as though she can breath.

"Ah-well-I really would like to know how you came to be in my case-but I left Jacob alone and some of the creatures housed here-" he trails off as though unsure or perhaps unwilling to leave.

With a nod of her head the two avert their gazes before exiting the luminescent room.

* * *

"Step back." Newts voice is sharp over the howling wind blowing across the snowy tundra of the habitat they've just entered.

Fear crashes through her senses as Hermione takes in the scene playing out before her. Jacob stands in the tundra his hand reaching out to touch the swirling, smokey, black mass suspended in mid air. Contained inside that sphere is what Hermione believes to be a parasitic creature the sight of which makes her blood run cold.

"Jeez..." Jacob says with a laugh, reaching out still.

"Step back..." Newt warns once more, hands outstretched towards Jacob, voice strained.

Hermione's magic sings as her wand slides into her hand. A sense of calm falling over her. The swirling mass moves more frantically, emitting a disturbed, restless energy. The feeling it emits making her stomach turn.

"What's the matter with this?" Jacob asks, confused and intrigued.

"I said step away." Newt tries once more, voice firm.

"What the hell is this thing?" Jacob exclaims turning to Newt, his eyes registering momentary surprise at the sight of Hermione.

"It's an Obscurus." Newt explains his voice hard, colder, more efficient, seemingly lost in a bad memory.

His words confirm Hermione's suspicions. A wave of empathy crashing into her as he turns abruptly, seemingly no longer happy to play about in his magical case. She holsters her wand once more a sad sigh escaping her lips, struggling to keep her own memories at bay.

* * *

 _Hermione sits at her desk in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She hadn't slept in days and it showed. Her normally impeccable style of professional dress gone, her light blue blouse stained and untucked, navy blue skirt wrinkled and bunched, a large run in her nude coloured stockings, sensible black heels kicked to the side of the room. Her ID badge forgotten atop a pile of reports haphazardly stacked on the corner of her desk. Wild, curling hair framing her face, large clumps falling from the messy bun atop her head, held in place by her vine wood wand._

 _Face pale, lips pulled tight she glances at the report thrown open on her desk, just as she's been doing off and on for the past couple of hours. The moving crime scene style photo replays once more. A man's steady hands pulling a white sheet up and over the head of a body, a body that's far to small to even be mistaken for an adult._

 _She rubs a frenzied hand across her face, cupping her chin. A shuddering sigh full of remorse drops from her shaking lips. Tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Rage filling her as a single word flashes through her mind._

 _Obscurial. The word circles about her mind as if taunting her, a snarl tears from her lips, feet firm against the cold stone floor as she stands, the contents of her desk flying across the room, the sound of breaking glass and heavy thumps filling the room. Her eyes burning as she blinks the tears from her eyes, breath coming in ragged gasps before falling back into her chair with gulp of air. The sound of sobs fill the space now. A sound that would permeate the office for many hours yet._

* * *

The young man who met Percival Graves earlier that evening stands in the dimly lit interior of the Second Salem Church before an older woman sat upon the stairs leading to the second floor, basked in darkness, an accusing look on her face.

"Credence-" she begins her tone one of finality. "Where have you been"

"I was..." The young man, Credence begins a lie forming on his lips.

"-looking for a place for tomorrow's meeting. There's a corner on Thirty-Second that could-" The words die on his lips at severe look on the woman's face.

"I'm sorry, Ma. I didn't realize it was so late." He assents.

As if familiar with this particular scene, Credence removes his belt, the smooth leather sliding easily from his belt loops. The woman extends a lightly lined hand, taking the belt from his extended hand. In silence, she turns, walking up the stairs, Credence obediently following.

* * *

Hermione and Jacob are talking quietly in the background of the small wooden shack as Newt stands just below the stairs leading up and out of the case's interior. Pushing various nick nacks and phials aside he searches for one phial in particular. Having just taken stock of the creatures housed in his case he knows exactly which items he needs. With a sound of triumph his fingers wrap around the phial of Erumpent musk, placing it securely within the folds of his coat. Just as he's about to turn and inform Hermione and Jacob that they're all ready to go, large, looping, golden script with smaller lettering just below catches his eye. Curious blue eyes settle on the face of a book, the title housed there reading, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ To the right of the title the author's name inscribed, _Newt Scamander_.

His brows furrow in deep confusion. Checking over his shoulder to confirm his guests are otherwise occupied he reaches out, fingers brushing against the worn leather cover of the book, fingers tracing the golden words inscribed on its face. Hesitantly taking it into his hand as though it will burst into flames at his touch he pulls it towards his body turning it over. An old man shifts uncomfortably in an ornate wingback chair, a hand running through his long, strikingly white beard. The name Newt Scamander once more stands out as if highlighted just below the full colour moving photograph. Wide eyed with frantic hands he stuffs the thin book into the deep pockets of his overcoat, clearing his throat as he turns to the laughing pair.

"I-ah- ready." He says simply killing the conversation as the pair turn to him. Suspicious and somewhat fearful eyes taking in his two companions as they smile at him in response.

* * *

 _I may as well go along for the ride._ Hermione reasons with herself as though she hadn't been doing just that the entire day already. Walking on the left side of Newt she takes in the storefronts as they pass. Admiring the 1920's fashion, diamonds and items for daily life housed within. The street dark and empty, the only sound their steps and the sound of Newt and Jacobs voices filling the air.

After exiting Newts case the three snuck out of the Goldsteins apartment in search of Newts escaped creatures. Quietly into the night as if a trio of thieves. Which is how they now found themselves in their current predicament, on an empty New York City street late at night, in search of Central Park.

"People like you, don't they, Mr. Kowalski?" Newt asks startling Hermione from her thoughts.

She looks at him in wonder, his expression relaxed before sliding her gaze to Jacob in anticipation.

"Oh-well, i'm-i'm sure people like you too-huh?" He replies as though startled by the question.

 _What an odd question._ Hermione can't help but agree with poor Jacobs reaction.

"No, not really. I annoy people." Newt replies unconcerned.

A rather unladylike snort escapes Hermione at his statement. Both men look to her, Jacob somewhat appalled by her reaction. Newt seemingly amused, eyes sparkling.

"Ahh." Jacob replies brushing Hermione's reaction aside, not quite sure how to answer.

"I can't imagine why." Hermione teases, filling the pause in conversation. Part joking, part in understanding, recalling the attitude British wizards and many others of the time had in regards to beings and beasts.

"No?" Newt asks his mouth upturned, eyebrow quirked.

 _Odd._ She thinks as they stare at one another. Though his expression is relaxed and amused, a underlying hint of suspicion seems to be playing just below the surface.

"No." She confirms a wide smile filling her face. Honest eyes sparkling encouragingly.

Jacob stumbles slightly on the other side of Newt, mumbling a bit under his breath. With a single soft, thankful smile, the suspicion seemingly forgotten, Newt faces forward once more.

"Why did you decide to be a baker?" He asks intrigued by the muggle man.

"Ah well, um-because i'm dying-in that canning factory." Newt turns to Jacob as if confused by the statement.

A giggle builds in Hermione's chest at the expression, leaning forward her mouth closed tight.

 _It wouldn't do to insult the poor man now._ She thinks eyes falling on Jacobs earnest face.

"Everyone there's dying. It just crushes the life outta you. You like canned food?" He continues eyes moving back and forth between Newt and Hermione, the question filling the air.

"No." They answer in sync, flashing quick smiles at one another before once again giving their full attention to the man laying his heart bare before them.

"Me neither. That's why I want to make pastries, you know. It makes people happy. We're going this way." He finishes heading off to the right, directing them towards their goal.

 _He's a sweet man._ Hermione thinks a soft smile on her face at his words.

 _It makes people happy. There could always be a little more happiness in the world._ She thinks as the two men continue to talk beside her, memories filling her. Plenty of bad, but many good. Some of her favourites were the small happy moments lost in time. Thinking further on it she realizes that many of those good memories were tinged with sadness, a small frown pulling at her lips.

Newt suddenly stops pulling Hermione from her thoughts, seemingly having noticed something odd. She follows his downturned gaze tracing a path of diamonds towards the window of a single diamond shop. Newt stealthily follows the trail, creeping past darkened shop windows. Hermione's eyes follow his lanky form until suddenly, he stops, tiptoeing backwards.

She looks to his destination eyes falling on a jewelry stand, or so she thought. It shakes, the jewels swinging. Hermione's mouth fall open as Newt stares at the creature in disbelief.

 _A Niffler._ She thinks laughter filling her mind. The Niffler stands in the window of the closed shop. As if hiding, it emulates a jewellery stand, arms outstretched, covered in diamonds. Sensing Newts stare the adorable little creature turns, slowly, the two making eye contact as Hermione watches enraptured.

Suddenly the Niffler is off, scurrying into the shop, away from the window and the frozen Newt. Hermione's wand slides into her hand just as Newts whips into his own.

"Finestra." He intones.

 _Oh my._ She watches wide eyed as the window shatters, glass spilling onto the street and into the shop as Newt leaps inside, seizing at drawers and cupboards in search of the creature.

 _Should have been a bloody Gryffindor._ Her thinks part in irritation, part in amusement as she approaches the shop with a hurried pace. Peeking into the now open shop in search of the Niffler as Jacob stares down the street, looking between Newt and the empty road as if waiting for someone to hear the commotion and come running.

"Idiot." she mumbles with a smirk, her eyes on Newt as the Niffler scurries up his shoulder onto the glittering, diamond filled chandelier. He swings from it as though a branch in the wild, swinging round and round at a dizzying speed. Newt reaches out and trips, both he and the Niffler now swinging from the chandelier. With a roll of her eyes Hermione pulls herself into the shop, glass crunching under her shoes. A choked sound comes from Jacob as if he's about to protest but she ignores it pressing on. Both the Niffler and Newt stare at her with wide eyes as she raises her arm, wand at the ready.

"Immobulus" A blue light shooting from her wand, bathing the two in its glow.

Now that the two struggling bodies are frozen the chandelier begins to slow its spin before the weight becomes too much, the chandelier falls, sending its two occupants crashing to the ground.

 _Oops._ Hermione winces as Newt and the Niffler hit the ground with a thud, broken, glittering pieces of the chandelier surrounding them, diamond encrusted jewelry pressing into their prone bodies. Countering the charm she helps Newt to his feet, hand gripping his cloth covered arm.

 _Best not to have a repeat of earlier._ She thinks as a pained smile of thanks greets her guilty eyes before he turns to the still frozen creature lying atop a pile of diamonds. Moving towards the creature he pauses momentarily as if having heard a sound. Shaking his head he reaches out, a moment too late as the Niffler shakes off the weak charm, rolling onto its feet before scurrying past a shocked Hermione and Newt.

"Bugger!" Newt shouts turning quickly to chase the little creature, forgetting about Hermione's close proximity. The two crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Hermione can't help the wince that shoots through her body as glass shards cut into the open palm of her left hand as it smacks against the floor, Newts own heavy hand accidentally pressing it harder into the carpeted, glass covered ground, a large diamond necklace digging into the skin of her lower back. Brown eyes meet blue in a swirl of emotion as the spark once again roars to life, more urgently than before.

It no longer builds and burns, the gentle but persistent tingling sensation spreading from the place their skin meets long gone. No. Instead, it rages within her. All at once, a fiery inferno overwhelming the senses, her skin heated in anticipation, their joined hands burning with the promise of more. The knot in her swirling core pulled taut as if her magic were attempting to force the knot to unravel by will of force alone.

A small moan escapes her now as Newts knees press hard into the carpeted ground, straddling her thigh on either side, trapping her beneath his tall frame. Shuddering breaths filling her body. Each intake of air causing her chest to strain against his own.

 _Closer. Just a bit closer-_ Her mind practically pleads, the raging fire growing within her still, screaming for release.

 _I'll_ _be burnt alive. Lost in these flames._ Newt lifts his opposite hand, wand forgotten on the floor. With a shaking breath his calloused fingers meet the smooth skin of her jaw just below her ear. Lightly trailing his fingers across the now relaxed curve of her jaw, his fingers leaving a burning trail in their wake.

 _Gods._ Hermione's unable to move as a sound of pleasure escapes her parted lips. His hand gently cups her chin, tilting her face up towards his own.

She looks on, a whimper filling the air, barely registering whether the sound came from her or Newt as his tongue leaves a trail of moisture across his bottom lip. His darkened eyes steady and filled with desire as they settle on her bitten lips. He leans forward, their mouths nearly touching, his thumb swiping a tortuously slow path across her trembling lower lip, hot breath mingling. Hermione's eyes flutter close in anticipation, long eyelashes caressing her heated cheeks.

Just outside the window Jacob clears his throat, a sound of discomfort filling the air.

Angry clacking registering in her ears as Poppy makes her presence known, rather displeased with their current state. The small Bowtruckle refusing to be left behind in Newts case, more than happy to come along for the adventure with its new chosen companion, all the while fighting with the Bowtruckle named Pickett riding upon Newts person. Picket appears to have made an appearance as well chattering as Poppy swings in Hermione's curls as though at home in her very own playground. The two Bowtruckles seem to argue as the spell is broken, a frustrated sigh escaping Newts parted lips as he drops his hand, grasping his wand before standing, hand outstretched towards Hermione.

Hermione grasps his cloth covered wrist, a little fearful of the dull, waning sensation that made its presence known only moments before. His fingers lightly brush her bare wrist, with a gentle but strong tug he helps Hermione to her feet, quickly pulling his hand away before the sensation can wash over them once more. His eyes staring past her as though embarrassed by his previous actions, cheeks stained pink. He hurries past her, climbing out of the window and into the street. Hermione brushes herself off, picking her wand up from the ground before casting a quick spell to remove the glass shards from her now bleeding hand before exiting the shop.

She steps into the street just in time to see the Niffler running off down the empty street.

"ACCIO!" Newt shouts in the silence, wand pointed at the runaway Niffler.

She watches, as if in slow motion as the Niffler sails backwards through the air. As he flies towards Newt he looks sideways at a glorious window display full of jewels and diamonds. His black eyes widening as jewellery falls from his pouch.

Hermione doesn't move to help, frozen, looking in wonder at the scene, still reeling a bit from her encounter with Newt. Jacob and Newt dive and duck around the flying jewelry as they run towards the creature.

The Niffler reaches out with small hands, grasping a pole, spinning, before flying to the side towards that glorious window display. Hermione starts forward, reaching the two men as Newt casts a spell at the window, turning it into a jelly like substance, trapping the Niffler within.

"All right? Happy?" Newt asks a bit miffed.

Newt now covered in jewellery, pulls the Niffler from the window.

Hermione's head whips around at the sound of police sirens approaching. She opens her mouth to shout a warning as the the police cars come screaming down the street, unnoticed by Newt who is currently occupied with shaking all of the jewels and diamonds from the squirming Nifflers pouch. The police cars pull up to the curb, stopping, policemen run out, guns aimed at the three companions. Jacob throws his hands up in surrender as Hermione wills her wand back into its holster.

"They went that way, Officer..." Jacob tries, jewellery covering his person.

"Hands up!" One of the officers shout, startling both Hermione and Jacob.

Hermione joins Jacob in his surrender. A small squeak catching her attention, she turns her head slightly, eyes landing on Newts distracted form as the Niffler pokes his nose out of the folds of Newts overcoat.

"What the hell is THAT?" The other officer shouts looking at the Niffler.

Jacob looks to the left his face full of terror.

"Lion..." he breathes, barely able to speak.

 _Fantastic!_ Hermione's mind taunts as she turns in time with the officers, following Jacobs line of site.

Seemingly perplexed Newt turns as well. There stalking towards the group is a majestic looking lion. A completely normal lion... but a lion nonetheless.

"You know, New York is considerably more interesting than i'd expected." Newt chimes in, his voice calm.

Hermione bites out a startled laugh as Newt turns to her and Jacob, grabbing them both before dissaparating away.


	9. Impossible Girl, Falling Through Time

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Surprise! I managed to finish this chapter... though it is a bit on the short side. I just adored Queenie and Jacob in the film so I really wanted to leave many of their moments in this story and maybe focus on them a bit more in the chapters to come. Also the scene between Newt and Hermione was a pain to write... I truly hope it all makes sense and doesn't seem terribly out of character or rushed. Worry not their conversation will be continued.

Ahhh i'm super pleased that the sexual tension really came out in that last chapter! As always thank you for the reviews and messages! You lot really are amazing! Keeping me motivated and such. Ndavis77: Thank you for the review and i'll try my best to have fun tonight! I'm sure I will. :) feline17: Right?! Jacob was such a cockblock in that last chapter :p Thank you for the well wishes also! Keep an eye out! I may very well write that oneshot eventually. Kavernista: Thank you. I'm glad you thought the cheating scene was written well and relatable, I really was worried Hermione's reaction would come off the wrong way. I'm very sorry you had to experience something such as that and hope that you can find some comfort and happiness during such a difficult time.

Anywho, onto the story!

* * *

At the Goldstein residence Tina and Queenie rush from Hermione's room, upon finding it empty, an angry curse falls from Tina's lips. Rushing to the room Newt and Jacob share, the door swings open as they burst into the now empty room, eyes settling on the open window, curtains billowing in the cool night air. Furious, Tina storms off to dress as Queenie stands in the now empty room, an upset look on her face.

"But we made 'em cocoa..." She says in a wounded voice, the words echoing in the empty room.

* * *

Hermione can't help but smile at Jacob as he looks down at the Erumpent, once again safely deposited in her enclosure within Newts case.

 _Poor Man._ She thinks taking in his dishevelled appearance. After a rather interesting run in with the female Erumpent in question, involving Erumpent musk, outdated protective gear, and what was meant to be a slow, seductive mating dance performed by Newt the three companions returned to interior of the case.

 _A scene one would not be likely to forget anytime soon._ Hermione thinks with a snort recalling the previous events of the evening.

* * *

After their capture of Niffler, run in with the police and odd meeting with an escaped lion the three companions made their way to Central Park. Standing before the Central Park Zoo, now half-empty, the entrance crumbling, large pieces of rubble partially blocking the way. A bellowing roar echoing around the brick building as Newt produces a breastplate handing it to Jacob, who has no wand to protect himself unlike Hermione and Newt.

"Okay, if you just, uh, pop this on." Newt says holding the breastplate towards a frightened Jacob.

"Okay." He replies apprehension clear in his voice.

"Now, there's absolutely nothing for you to worry about." Newt says in attempt to sooth the man's nerves, failing terribly.

"Tell me-has anyone ever believed you when you told them not worry?" Jacob asks as he finishes securing the breastplate in place.

"My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice." As Jacob and Hermione digest Newts "wisdom", he picks up his case before making his way over the rubble, walking further into the zoo as Hermione and Jacob follow.

A loud snort comes from within, startling Jacob as Hermione puts a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort and calm him.

"She's in season. She needs to mate." Newt supplies, answering the unasked question.

 _Of course she is._ Hermione thinks in self deprecating tone. _Not one part of this situation could be simple._

Wand in hand as the trio approaches the hippo enclosure her eyes fall upon the Erumpent, a large, round, rhino-like creature, it's leathery greyish hide capable of repelling most curses and charms.

 _Much like the Tebo-_ Hermione thinks as she continues to take in the magnificent if not a little bit goofy looking creature before her.

Fives times the size of the poor, presumably male hippo she stands, nuzzling up against the enclosure, her single long horn, glinting dangerously as it protrudes from her head, the horn in question capable of piercing skin as well as metal, containing a deadly fluid earning it's classification as a level XXXX beast.

Newt takes out a tiny phial of liquid, pulling the stopper out with his teeth, spitting it to the side before dabbing his wrists with the liquid contained within. Jacob and Hermione look at him, wrinkling their noses slightly-the smell pungent as it fills the air.

"Erumpent musk-she is mad for it." Newt supplies passing the open bottle to Jacob before heading further into the zoo.

 _He can't possibly-_ she thinks, the thought dying before it can truly begin as Newt sets his case on the ground near the Erumpent, slowly, seductively opening it with a flourish of his hands.

 _Of course he can._ Her mouth pulls into a small amused smirk as Newt begins to perform what could loosely be called a mating ritual or dance.

Eyes filled with mirth she watches with a hand covering her mouth as grunts and groans fall from Newts mouth as he "dances" about the case in an attempt to gain the Erumpents attention. He wiggles and rolls, hips in the air as he lifts the tails of his coat, displaying his tight bottom to his enraptured audience.

"Oh honestly." Hermione giggles earning herself a bemused look from Jacob.

"Tell me-Just what is he doing?"Jacob asks the giggling woman beside him, her appreciative eyes taking in Newts clothed backside.

"Ah-well I believe, he's using a combination of Erumpent musk and a mating ritual or dance in order to lure the the Erumpent into his case." She says, hand clamping over her mouth to stifle the giggles bursting out from within.

"Ah-" Jacob replies in understanding, a smile spreading across his own face, shoulders relaxing.

The Erumpent turns away from the hippo, her small eyes on either side of her head focusing on Newts twisting form, the two circle one another in an odd waving pattern, her focus now on her potential mate. The creatures horn glowing orange, Newt rolls across the ground, the Erumpent copies his movement, moving closer to Newt and the open case.

"Good girl-come on-into the case..." He urges from behind the case, his back to Hermione and Jacob, eyes steady on the approaching Erumpent.

As Hermione watches enraptured, Jacob takes a sniff of the Erumpent musk, a fish flies past, jolting him, the musk spilling down the front of his shirt.

The wind changes, trees swaying in the wind, leaves rustling. The pungent smell of the musk hits Hermione's nose as the Erumpent takes in a deep breath, the noise audible before turning her beady eyes to Jacob and Hermione.

The trio stand frozen in the respective locations, all at once realizing what is about to occur. With a loud bellow the Erumpent charges past Newt, her heavy feet causing the ground to shake with each step. Rushing towards the frozen Hermione and Jacob without pause. Jacob wails, running in the opposite direction.

"Bugger!" Hermione exclaims, Newts seemingly favourite phrase catching as all hell breaks loose.

* * *

The entire situation worked out in the end but created quite the mess.

After returning the Erumpent to her enclosure, Newt returned to the small shack mumbling about notes, phials, magic, books and scars. His quiet words being overhead by Hermione, a frown settling on her face. Before leaving he gave the two a quick rundown of which creatures they could safely interact with, earning himself an amused look from Hermione, one brow arched. Before prying a promise from Jacob that he would not approach anything dangerous, like the Obscurus again.

Hermione and Jacob peered down at the Erumpent for a few moments more before bursting into laughter, the memory of their night so far running through their minds. Once settled they stood, Jacob turning to Hermione.

"I think i'll visit the Mooncalves again. Would you care to join me?" He asks straightening his tie before offering her his arm, an amicable smile on his face.

"Thank you, but no, I think i'd best go check on Newt." She replies with a small shake of her head, a smile still pulling at her lips.

With a nod, and slight bow, met by a girlish giggle, Jacob departs, stopping as Hermione's voice calls out to him once more.

"Jacob-" She calls, voice carrying across the space between them.

"Really, please don't approach anything dangerous, especially the Obscurus-it just-please, please promise you'll stay away." She continues as he turns, a puzzled look on his face.

With one final inclination of his head he disappears further into the depths of the case, leaving Hermione alone. With one final look at the now contained Erumpent, Hermione turns, taking a deep breath before heading in the direction of the small wooden shack and the complex man housed within.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the trio, Tina Goldstein witnessed the tail end of their encounter with the Erumpent and descent into Newts beaten brown case. Hiding on the bridge above the frozen lake, just past the Central Park Zoo she sat in wait. Peeking down she watched as they entered the case before rushing onto the lake, hurriedly sitting on top of the unattended case as she closes the catches a shocked but determined expression on her face.

* * *

Pushing the door of the shack open silently Hermione steps into the room, easing the door shut behind her. Scanning the room her eyes come to rest on the hunched form of Newt, his back to the door, overcoat removed once more, slung over the chair, sleeves rolled up, elbows on his knees as he clutches the small leather bound book in his hands. Quiet muttering filling the air.

"-but how?!" she catches the frenzied end of a sentence as she approaches, quietly, as to not disturb the seemingly distraught man.

A floorboard creaks under her weight as she comes to a stop behind him, curious brown eyes peering over his shoulder, a small gasp escaping her lips.

The name Sea Serpent is scrawled across the top of the page in looping script. A beautiful, breathtaking, hand drawn depiction of the creature spans across the bottom of two pages, it's fearsome form breaking through the waves, mouth open wide as if poised to strike. Its classification and available information filling the space between.

At the surprised noise Newt turns quickly, book closing shut with a snap, setting it aside, confused blue eyes meeting Hermione's own, now full of fear. Lips pursed he takes note of her expression, eyes glinting, as though his suspicions have been confirmed.

 _But he can't possibly know..._ She thinks, that one small sound damning her as it fell from her lips.

Hermione takes a step back, hand shooting to her mouth, eyes wide, and wild darting about the room as if looking for an escape. With quick strides Newt closes in on her retreating form, a small glass phial crashing to the ground, shattering in a spray of glass as Hermione's back makes contact with a sturdy wooden desk, pressed tight against one of the walls.

 _Oh no, oh no, oh no-_ Her mind repeats frantically, the two words becoming a mantra.

Newt stands little more than a foot away, a confused look on his face, a small amount of hurt leaking into his expression as he takes in her shaking form. He shakes his head, reddish brown hair dancing with the movement before meeting her eyes once more.

He pivots, moving across the floor, grabbing another chair, pulling it over to sit across from his own. With a hurried motion of his hand he instructs her to sit. As if performing a rather convincing imitation of a statue she continues to stare at him, unmoving, mouth opening and closing as if searching for the words to explain herself.

 _Oh no, oh-_ With a small sigh he walks towards her once more, grabbing her bare wrist in a firm but gentle grip. Pulling her gently from her place against the desk, steps hurried. Her mind goes blank, knees weak as the flames rise.

"Ah-" The single sound slips from his lips, grip tightening as he turns just as she stumbles. As though prying his fingers from her wrist with great difficulty, he takes a shuddering breath. The fire snuffed out before it can truly begin it's all consuming spread. Both arms wrapping about her waist, catching her before she falls. Now separated by layers of fabric, bodies close, the two pause, catching their breath. Matching bewildered looks crossing their faces.

Clearing his throat Newt grips her upper arm which is thankfully covered by the soft fabric of her blouse, pulling her towards the chair, motioning for her to sit once more. She eases herself into the chair as he does the same. Knees touching, he clears his throat.

"Hermione who?" Newts calm voice fills the room.

 _Too calm._ She thinks her eyes snapping up to meet his hard stare, a look oh so similar to when Jacob found the Obscurus floating about the snowy tundra habitat. She gulps, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. The question hangs in the air as they engage in a silent staring contest. Hermione's mind racing as she weighs the consequences.

"Granger." She responds the single word dropping from her lips.

"Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch, clearly British. Didn't attend Hogwarts as far as I recall, though you would have been a few years under me I believe-" He begins as though speaking to himself.

Hermione opens her mouth a small sound of protest escaping her lips. Gaze steady Newt raises a hand stopping the words before they can fall from her lips, pushing forward without pause.

", it's nearly impossible you were home schooled-it is possible you went to school abroad, though rather unlikely- That's fine though, none of that information is truly important. There's more to it though isn't there? A secret, a secret you're desperate to keep. But why? Still with me?" He asks eyes boring into her own.

"I-I have no idea what you're on about. You must be mad!" She replies, regretting the words as soon as they've left her mouth. Her eyes falling to her feet as his lips curve into a frown, disappointment and hurt filling his gaze.

"No." He says voice stern. Hermione's eyes snap up, startled. His disappointment and hurt brushed aside for the moment.

"Don't lie. Please-Not to me-" He begs, pausing, tongue wetting his lips, mouth parted, eyes staring into the distance as if searching for the words to properly convey his thoughts.

"When we touch-it's as though the world falls away-your presence making my mind unable to think of anything else-fire, heat, an all consuming hunger-" A pause as Hermione's breath catches, pulse beating a frantic rhythm against her skin.

His hand reach out towards the frozen woman, open, honest blue eyes begging for understanding and perhaps acceptance. A light touch as his fingers trail across her forearm, calloused skin catching slightly on the raised silvery characters of the slur below. A smouldering trail of fire following in their wake. Brown eyes meet blue, their eyes darkening, confirmation of the shared connection, a fear of the unknown magics seemingly at play.

"That scar- I won't ask how you got it-not yet." He starts, taking note of how she sets her jaw, eyes defiant as if issuing a challenge.

"But-well it is true that many of the old families are quite obviously prejudiced, none would be as reckless as to openly attack a muggle-born witch in such a way, not with the current state of Wizarding Britain, Grindelwald's power and forces on the rise. His attacks garnering international attention, the threat of exposure and war becoming more present with each passing day." The words falling from his lips in a frenzied rush, cheeks colouring.

"No. None would be so reckless in this _Time_." He finishes eyes boring into Hermione's own, emphasis on that final word.

Her breath catches, brown eyes wide, her reaction once more betraying her. His mouth drops open momentarily, a shuddering breath escaping his parted lips, a stunned expression on his face as his suspicions are confirmed.

"The way you appeared earlier today in that alleyway, bathed in a golden glow, that wasn't apparition or a portkey. Your nationality, your knowledge and control of magic. Your age, so close to my own yet we've never met." He pushes forward a wild glint in his eyes, a thirst for knowledge and understanding.

"Your scar," Eyes flickering once more to her forearm, before moving across the rest of her exposed skin.

"-your compassion and lack of fear when confronted with beasts of all manner." He continues brushing the curls that house the rebellious Bowtruckle named Poppy up and over her shoulder.

"I have more than a few scars from my own encounters in the field, enough to recognize a number of your own." His fingers dropping to a Murtlap bite on her collar bone, partly hidden by the collar of her blouse. A flicker of flame licking her skin at his gentle touch.

Brown, wonder filled eyes tinged with fear continue their perusal of his person, landing on a handful silvery scars carved into the skin of his arms. A variety of bites and scratches marring his otherwise perfect, pale, freckled skin. Pulling his hand back he turns, grabbing the leather bound book once more, turning it over in his large hand.

She winces as her eyes fall on the full colour photograph of a much, much older Newt. The contrast in age startling when faced with the photograph of the old man she admired growing up and the far younger man he currently appeared to be, whom she had only begun to get to know, sitting before her now.

"Time." He rolls the word in his mouth as if tasting it. Flipping the book over before opening it to the first page.

Her eyes fall on the page. The title spelled out once more, the name _Newt Scamander_ noted as the author, the words Fifty-second edition printed below. The name _Hermione Granger, 1993_ written on the back of the cover, the letters worn and smudged, aged with time.

 _Time. It always comes back to that single word..._ She thinks with a sigh, raising her eyes once more her expression resigned.

"The impossible girl, falling through time-" Newts steady voice fills the room, blue eyes sparkling as their gazes meet.

"Hermione Granger, _just_ who are you?" His question hanging in the air.

 _Bugger..._ The single thought filters through her head, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

* * *

In a large, ornately decorated hall, covered in patriotic emblems, hundreds of glamourous people sit around tables, looking towards a stage. Their jewel covered limbs shining in the artificial light, the finest fabrics draped over their skin. A large poster endorsing Senator Shaw hands over the stage, the slogan: America's future printed below the large, blow up image of a man's face. No expense was spared when decorating the events venue, City Hall for the evening.

An announcer stands behind a microphone, clearing his throat before speaking.

"...now, tonight's keynote speaker needs no introduction from me. He's been mentioned as a future president-and if you don't believe me, just read his daddy's newspapers-" A pause as indulgent laughter comes from the crowd. Shaw senior smiles from the crowd, a glass lifted into the air.

"-ladies and gentlemen, I give you the senator for New York, Henry Shaw!" Thunderous applause follows the announcement. Senator Shaw enters the stage, acknowledging the crowds cheers as he mounts the steps of the podium, coming to a stop behind the microphone stand.

* * *

Tina hurries along a darkened, empty New York City street, Newts beaten brown case clutched tightly in hand. Suddenly, Streetlights go out all around her, plunging the street into darkness. She stops as something seems to rush by. A cold chill settling over her body. Darkness surrounding her, she turns, an expression of fear filling her face.

* * *

Senator Shaw stands on stage, delivering his pre-prepared speech to the lavishly dressed audience before him.

"...and it's true we have made some progress, but there is no reward for idleness. So just as the odious saloons have been banished..." His continues his voice steady and strong, filling the room.

A haunting noise comes from the organ pipes at the back of the room, the audience turns, the Senator pauses.

"...so now the pool halls, and these private parlours..." He abruptly stops as the strange noise gets louder.

The guests turn their curious gazes to the back of the room, the senator shifts nervously on stage, anxiety gripping him as the audience mutters.

Suddenly something explodes forth from under the organ, an invisible form, unseen by all, soars across the hall, tables flying through the air, people thrown to the ground, lights smashing and shattering in a spray of glass, screams filling the air as the unseen force pushes forward, carving a line towards the stage. Towards the lone figure standing there, Senator Shaw.

The force crashes into Senator Shaw, throwing him backwards against his own poster, he stays suspended in mid air as if held by an invisible hand before being brought down with a violent crash-dead.

The sound of tearing fabric and anguished, panicked screams fill the air. Shaw senior rushes toward his fallen son, fighting against the frenzied crowd before falling to his knees at his son's side. Hands on the bleeding form of Senator Shaw, rolling him over. Devastation tearing across his features as his son's face comes into view. Brutally scarred, eyes open and unseeing, mouth hung wide in a silent, frozen scream.

Senator Shaw has fallen, an invisible force tearing the life from his body, the evidence of its assault clearly displayed.

"WITCHES!" A single voice fills the air, barely heard above the panic, police sirens sounding from the streets.


	10. What it Means to be Brave

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Hello everyone! Long time no see! Here's another chapter for you! As always thank you for the reviews and messages! I hope that last chapter was to your liking and I hope this one is as well! (woah that's a lot of exclamation marks)

feline17: ahah yes! The Erumpent incident is hilarious! I was giggling so loudly in the theatre...

Also thank-you to The Queen of Thornes who was kind enough to lend me a pair of fresh eyes in editing this chapter and those to come. After reading the same words again and again it's easy to miss spelling and grammar mistakes so a pair of fresh eyes really does help. We had a few issues when exchanging the document so a few small mistakes may have slipped past but I think it all worked out pretty well in the end!

One last thing. Ship names anyone? What to call this new couple of Hermione and Newt. The Queen of Thornes brought it up and we really should decide on a ship name... Thoughts?

Anywho look forward to the next chapter and enjoy this one! I'm currently writing it so i'm not positive when it will go up but I think it's safe to say that it will be up sometime this week!

* * *

 _What do I do? What can I possibly say..._ Hermione's mind races as she worries at her bottom lip.

Newt's gaze is steady, an excited, wonder filled spark burning in his eyes, the leather bound edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them clutched in hand. The eyes of a child when faced with a fantastic piece of magic for the first time, so innocent, and naive, having no idea of the consequences of having meddled with time.

 _Oh come off it! You've already meddled enough as it is, no greater power has struck you down yet!_ A loud voice in her mind shouts.

The silence continues to permeate the air as Newt shifts in his seat, waiting, as if urging her to speak. She stares at the wall behind his head taking in the rows upon rows of phials, gear and various nick nacks.

 _You can't go back._ The voice, smaller now than before, whispers in her mind.

A frown pulls at her lips. If she remembered correctly the research into time magic wouldn't even begin for a number of years yet.

 _20 years, probably more._ The invention of Time-Turner even further off. By her time, all but two had been destroyed, _hers_ and one owned by the Malfoy family, which was later confiscated by the Ministry during a raid. With all of the devices gone the topic was dropped, the power to manipulate time too powerful for human hands.

 _Lost in time._ Tears gather in her eyes at the thought, Newt's face dropping as he takes note, his hand moving as if to wipe them away before stopping, dropping his arm back to his side.

 _'I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do.'_ The words inscribed on her now destroyed Time-Turner flash through her mind.

 _The creation of an alternate time line? Or... is time a loop..._ She muses rubbing a hand over her face. Her presence may very well change nothing... Her younger self won't even be born for many years yet and, the name Hermione Granger is completely unknown.

 _'My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do.'_ She mulls the final line of the engraving over in her head once more.

 _What to do?_ If time is indeed a loop, the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy, none of her actions would have any effect on the time line. The consequences her being here were unimportant in the grand scheme of time. Or perhaps... perhaps she was the catalyst, the catalyst for all that was to come. The thought makes her mouth run dry.

Grindelwald would still be defeated by Albus Dumbledore... Voldemort would still rise, killing Harry's parents before casting that final killing curse, embedding the last of his Horcrux's in Harry's scar. Years later, he'd rise once more, leaving a path of destruction and chaos in his wake. In what was meant to be their seventh year, Harry would defeat him as planned, and Wizarding Britain would transition into a period of peace... But... at what cost?

 _The lives that could be saved- So many lives lost far too soon._ Was the price of peace too steep? Could she truly sit back and allow all of those lives to be lost?

Fred, Remus, Tonks, her parents, the list goes on. With her knowledge of future events... could she still live with herself if she let those events come to pass? Her mind goes blank at the thought, hands clenched in her lap.

 _Yes._ The single word, quiet and small, filters through her mind. She could do what she must.

Meddling could irreparably change the timeline, warping the future into a far darker place, the tentative peace lost. Hermione Granger was nothing if not logical. Though the lack of information and proof pertaining to her current predicament and theory put her on edge, this seemed like the most logical and best option.

She was trapped in time with no way home, like Dorothy in OZ, only this was her life. Fact, not fiction. In this story there was no evil witch with sparkling red shoes or an all powerful Wizard to send her home with a click of her heels.

 _Fiction._

This was real life, her life. Though Witches and Wizards could be found everywhere none were omnipotent. All power and magic had its limits.

 _Yes._ She would grab this second chance at life and live it. She would live as she wished while trying her best to avoid affecting any major fixed points in time.

 _Newt._ Remembering the man before her she pulled herself from her thoughts, straightening her back, eyes steady as they came to rest on his waiting form, her jaw set in a decisive line.

"My name is Hermione Granger, I was born on the 19th of September, 1979, in London, England. Daughter and only child of Dan and Jean Granger, two muggle dentists. An intelligent child beloved by her parents, a young girl who had no idea magic existed until the age of eleven when she was visited by an oddly dressed woman who identified herself as her soon to be Professor. This woman came bearing an acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Hermione began, weaving a tale of days that had yet to come, of people that had yet to be.

"' _Finally!'_ She thought, a place where she could truly belong. The odd little girl who loved books more than playing in the sand with the other children had finally found the place she was meant to be, surrounded by knowledge, wonder and others who held a taste for learning. On the 1st of September, 1991 the young girl began attending Hogwarts where she was subsequently sorted into Gryffindor house, despite having the choice to be sorted into Ravenclaw." She continued her tale, watching Newt's expression closely, his mouth hung open, eyes staring at her as though she was one of his beloved and most fantastic beasts.

"She already knew she was intelligent, that fact would never change. What the little girl truly wanted was to be brave and loyal, just like the heroes from the novels she read and loved so much growing up. How naive that young girl would prove to be. Hogwarts was not the dream she had believed it to be. True, it was beautiful, a castle like those found only in legend, magic and wonder filling the halls, creatures and beasts she once believed to be myth roaming free in the forest just beyond the school. Despite all this and more the dream would soon become a nightmare. She was not accepted, she did not belong. Muggle-born, the title hung heavy over her head, a disadvantage from birth in the eyes of many of the old families. Know-it-all, her intelligence and drive to succeed isolating her even more." She watched with a sad smile on her face as Newt's face falls, those wonder filled eyes dropping, pulled tight as though feeling her pain first-hand.

"Lonely and so very far from home she struggled to fit it, wishing to make friends. She wouldn't dare be greedy, just one would do. Finally on October 31st her wish was granted. She had just spent the day crying in the girls' bathroom after overhearing a young boy's unkind words about her when unbeknownst to her a Mountain Troll had entered the school through the dungeons." His eyes snap back up to her face, the mention of the Troll in a school full of children causing a small noise of fear and disbelief to escape his parted lips. Hermione's leather bound edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them tumbling from his fingers to the floor.

 _Now that's the reaction the teachers should have had..._ She thinks with a snort in her mind, a pause filling the air, punctuated only by sound of their breathing.

"The Troll made its way into the bathroom the young girl was currently occupying, the young boy who been so very unkind and his best friend noticed her absence at the feast before rushing to her rescue, saving her. Together the three faced off against the twelve foot Mountain Troll, managing to knock it unconscious by levitating its club to drop upon its head. When the teachers finally found them, the young girl lied. For the very first time in her life she skirted the rules and lied to an adult in a position of power. She told the Professors that she believed herself capable of fighting a fully grown Mountain Troll after having read a great deal about them, the two boys having merely come to help the foolish girl escape. From that point on the three became the best of friends, _'The Golden Trio'_ as they would soon be known. At long last the young girl made the friends she had so desperately wished for and finally, she learned what it meant to be brave. The three young children truly embodying what it meant to be a Gryffindor, members of the house of the brave." She finished with small smile, memories of Ron and Harry swirling her mind.

Newt's mouth dropped open, his suspicions being met with a verbal confirmation, a dizzying barrage of information swirling about in his head, his eyes wide and full of wonder. An expression that would look more at home on the face of a child learning about magic for the first time... A look oh so similar to the one she wore during Professor McGonagall's first visit at eleven-years-old.

"Over 70 years- A Troll- Eleven-years-old..." He began in a shuddering voice.

"Yes." She confirmed, voice soft.

"B-But how?" He asked voice raising an octave, freckled fingers clutching at air, Hermione's beloved book on the floor where he'd dropped it.

"A bit of an incident involving a Time-Turner, reckless behaviour, a threatened mother Tebo in the middle of New York, her young, and a task force of trigger-happy Wizards from various countries." She answered with a wave of her hand, shoulders now relaxed, decision made.

"And well, you know about the Troll now." She teases lightly, her small smile growing.

"Ah-" Newt said as if realizing something.

"The chain you had around your neck, the marks on your chest..." He began, hand waving frantically in the air.

"Your pocket! Was that where you kept the Time-Turner- is that what you called it?" He asks, excitement filling his voice once more.

Pulling her bag into her lap she thrust her arm deep into the leather bag, Newt's eyes following her every movement.

"Undetectable Extension Charm-" He began, his voice trailing off at the end, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

Digging around in her bag for a moment before she felt her fingers brush against the burnt collar of her ruined blouse, grasping it before pulling it from the depths of her bag, pushing the large leather bag aside, depositing the wrapped crimson fabric in her lap. Gently unfolding the cloth, hands shaking slightly as the broken Time-Turner and chain came into view.

Newt leaned toward her then, his upper body invading her space, his scent assaulting her senses. With a heavy inhale through her nose, his scent surrounds her as though wrapping her in a blanket of warmth.

 _Parchment, grass and something else..._ Her voice trails off, lost in thought.

With tentative fingers he reaches out.

"May I?" He asks, blue eyes falling on her own thoughtful brown.

A pause before she nods in answer. His fingers brush against the warped remains of the time turners frame before plucking it from her lap, holding it high in the air, tilted towards the light, examining its still golden form before bringing it back down to eye level. His strong fingers brushing lightly against the engraving, curious blue eyes taking in the words, still partially visible.

"I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the Sun.-" He reads, his voice filling the room.

"-My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do." She finishes the engraving in quiet voice, the words burned into her memory as though taunting her now.

"This- it's- Amazing!" He exclaims, stumbling over his words in his excitement, scientific curiosity aroused.

"I haven't seen anything like this. The possibilities, the implications of such a device! How does it work?" He asks, desperate for the unknown knowledge.

Silence falls over the pair as she weighs the consequences once more.

"I would imagine you haven't. The research into time magic isn't set to begin for many years yet, the invention of the Time-Turner even further away." She confirms with a small laugh.

"In the future your typical Time-Turner is issued by the Ministry of Magic and has a hour-reversal charm placed on them. These Time-Turners' have limited range of 5-hours back in time, for safety reasons. I originally received this Time-Turner in my third year." She begins, her fingers brushing the remains held in his hand, ghosting across his skin. Warmth tickling their skin at the touch, his breath catching as she continues.

"Years later it was gifted to me once more by my favourite professor. All but two Time- Turners had been destroyed by the time I... left." She finishes with a sigh, a wistful expression on her face.

His eyes widen as if realizing something very, very important.

"Are you-Should you really be telling me this? The future... the time line-" He asks a tinge of fear leaking into his expression, looking around as though an Auror task force will break into his case, wands raised and ready to take them in at any moment.

 _Let it never be said Newt Scamander isn't intelligent._ A sad smile curves Hermione's lips as she watches his frantic search.

"I-I don't believe I can return. While it is true that in my time a stringent set of rules were put in place in order to avoid the abuse and misuse of Time-Turners, an application required to even be considered capable and worthy of using one, a promise from the recipient to never divulge its existence and use to outsiders.. These rules don't yet exist, the device a distant dream, quite possibly in the mind of a wizard or witch that has yet to be born. Much of the information regarding Time-Turners, the creator or creators and the mysteries of time magic have been lost to time." She begins.

Time. That word again. One can never escape the sands of time- She thinks with a small, strangled laugh before rushing forward.

"I-I'm not quite sure what effect my presence in this time will have, whether I've created an alternate timeline... or if my fall through time was pre-destined and all that has come to pass will occur once more despite my being here. It pains me to say it-but I'm rather clueless in regards to the implications and consequences of my fall through time." She bites her lip, staring up at him, eyes uncertain.

"Hmmm- no matter. You're here now and you know my philosophy about worrying..." He trails off, a brilliant, shy smile spreading across his lips as their gazes meet, eyes dancing with emotion before looking at his hand, the mangled remains of the Time-Turner still held within.

* * *

The gigantic dial hanging in the MACUSA lobby showing the Magical Exposure Threat Level, emits a low whining noise as the hand moves from Severe to Emergency.

Tina Goldstein runs up the lobby steps, Newt's case in hand, past various witches and wizards huddled in groups, whispering nervously.

* * *

With one final look at the small golden frame, he holds out his hand to her. A small smile filters across her face in thanks as she lifts a single lightly shaking hand to receive the device. He drops the Time-Turner into her waiting hand, fingers brushing against her skin, once more. That oh so familiar trail of fire left in their wake. With a nod of thanks and a loud intake of air her shaking fingers wrap the device in her ruined blouse securely before depositing it once more in the depths of her bag.

Turning back to the man before her once more, stray curls smacking her face as she returns her shaking hand to her lap.

* * *

Inside the MACUSA in the Pentagram Office, an impressive hall arranged like an old parliament debating chamber, where various Wizards and Witches from all parts of the world sit. A hologram image of Senator Shaw's dead body floats high above the room, emitting a glowing light.

"Our American friends have permitted a breach in the Statute of Secrecy that threatens to expose us all." The Swiss delegate, Heinrich Eberstadt argues from his place in the stands.

"I will not be lectured by the man who let Gellert Grindelwald slip through his fingers-" Seraphina Picquery begins before cutting herself off abruptly as Tina Goldstein rushes in.

"Madam President, I i'm so sorry to interrupt, but this is critical-" Tina begins, words echoing in the spacious hall, silence now filling the room.

Tina slides to a halt in the middle of the floor before realizing what exactly she's walked into. The delegates all stare at her nervous form, the case clutched tightly in hand.

"You'd better have an excellent excuse for this intrusion, Miss Goldstein." Madam Picquery begins, back straight, giving her a hard stare as her eyes land on Tina's cowed form.

"Yes-I do." Tina begins, stepping forward to address her.

"Ma'am. Yesterday a Witch and Wizard entered New York with a case. This case full of magical creatures, and-unfortunately-some have escaped." She explains to the room, displaying the case in hand.

"They arrived yesterday? You have known for twenty-four hours that an unregistered Witch and Wizard set magical beasts loose in New York and you see fit to tell us only when a man has been killed?" Madam Picquery enquires, voice hard.

"Who has been killed?" Tina asks completely clueless to the reason for this meeting between the Wizarding delegates.

Looking around in confusion her eyes fall on the hologram image displaying Senator Shaw's corpse. Eyes widening a fraction as understanding crosses her features.

"Where are they?" Madame Picquery asks, the question coming off as more of a demand.

Tina sets the case flat on the floor, her actions hurried, thumping the lid.

* * *

"Ah-" Newt suddenly exclaims bending to pick up the discarded book from the ground. Hermione's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them once again held tight in hand.

"And this?" He asks holding the book aloft, turning it over in his hands a toothy grin spreading across his face.

"Spoilers." She responds in kind, hands reaching out as he places the book in her outstretched hands with a flourish, before depositing it into the safety of her large bag once more.

A loud thump sounds in the case as though someone is knocking on a door, startling its occupants. Hermione and Newt stand as Jacob rushes through the door of the small wooden shack, clearly finished with the Mooncalves and the various other creatures hidden throughout Newt's case.

"What the hell is that?" Jacob exclaims coming to a stop beside the two.

* * *

The occupants of the chamber watch as after a second or two the lid of the case creaks open. First Newt, then Jacob, and finally Hermione emerge. Sheepish, nervous looks on their faces.

 _Oh-this can't be good._ Hermione thinks as their entrance is met by the curious gazes of the assembled delegates.

"Scamander?" A shocked voice intones, clearly British.

 _Very, very not good._ She corrects herself biting down hard on her lip.


	11. Stunning

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** As always thank-you everyone for the reviews, I take great joy in reading them after every new chapter (no mean one's so far thank god) and thank you to The Queen of Thornes for constantly putting up with my many messages, questions and spelling/ grammar mistakes.

I put another section of Author Notes at the end of the chapter where I responded to a few reviews and questions. I got a bit lengthy in my replies so I thought it best to reply to you guys down there so I don't take away from the story.

Let's see some ship name suggestions thanks to you guys: Newmione, Gramander, Hermewt... Further thoughts?

* * *

"Oh- er- hello, Minister." Newt says in greeting, closing the case.

Hermione shifts awkwardly, unsure what to do.

"Theseus Scamander? The war hero?" Enquired a man, who Hermione recognized as Momolu Wotorson from the stands.

"No, this is his little brother. And what in the name of Merlin are _you_ doing in New York?" Asked the man Newt identified as the British Minister before Newt could get in a word edgewise.

 _Oh good. The British are here._ Hermione winced at the thought.

 _Though I don't recognize this minister, he must not have lasted long..._ An unknown British citizen on international soil, apparently now an accomplice in an assumed crime… _Wonderful_

She shrank back slightly, edging away from the British envoy, towards Jacob who was still standing stock still, eyes wide. Apparently noticing her retreat from the corner of his eye, Newt stepped forward slightly, blocking both her and Jacob from the man's view. Peeking around Jacob she notices Tina, staring at the trio, a deep frown on her face, taking in their peculiar actions.

"I came to buy an Appaloosa Puffskein, sir." Newt replied, the lie clear in his voice.

Hermione's brows crinkled at his response. She never did get around to asking him what he was doing here. There was no doubt in her mind that buying an Appaloosa Puffskein was not the true reason for his visit to New York.

"Right. What are you _really_ doing here?" Asks the suspicious envoy, clearly no more fooled by Newt's answer than Hermione herself.

Her eyes widen in fear as Seraphina Picquery's gaze falls upon her partially hidden form, the formidable woman's lips pulled tight as she turns.

"Goldstein-and who are they?" She demands looking once more to Jacob and Hermione.

"This is Jacob Kowalski, Madam President, he's a No-Maj who got bitten by one of Mr. Scamander's creatures." Tina explains motioning to Jacob.

Furious reactions from the MACUSA employees and dignitaries fill the room.

"No-Maj? Obliviated?" outraged questions meet her confession, the stands filling with whispers.

Jacob looks around the room with fear filled eyes.

"And her?" Madam Picquery demands, her statement silencing the room at once.

"This is Hermione, Mr. Scamander's accomplice-" Tina explains walking over to Hermione, hidden behind Jacob and Newt, grasping Hermione's upper arm in a tight grip, pulling her out from behind Jacob with a gentle but firm tug.

"Ah-No-" Newts begins, stepping towards the two women.

"Hermione _who_?" The powerful voice of Madam Picquery fills the room once more, her gaze on Hermione, the recipient of her question clear.

"Well you see-" Tina begins.

Her statement is cut short as Madam Picquery holds up her hand, demanding silence.

Hermione takes a breath, mumbling quietly. Newt looks on, eyes wide and concerned. He looks as though he wishes to grab her and Jacob and Disapparate from the room.

 _Wouldn't work..._ She thinks shaking her head slightly.

"Just-" She pauses for a moment, thinking her answer through.

Suddenly whispering fills the stands as her clear voice fills the room, causing Hermione's eyes to dart about the room in question, a confused expression on her face.

" _Mudblood…_ " Hermione can't help the wince that escapes her as the single word falls from Tina's mouth, confusion evident in her voice, eyes scrunched in confusion as she takes in the crude slur carved into Hermione's arm.

Having been in a rush to leave Newt's case she completely forgot about her current manner of dress.

Her arm was now clearly on display.

With that single word a hushed silence fills the room and Hermione takes stock of their reactions. Many faces show their confusion, the word clearly being more of a British thing. The British Envoy looks as though he's sucked on a sour lemon, his eyes cold as he takes in her disheveled appearance. Madam Picquery's expression is drawn tight, lips pursed, the slur clearly known to her, though her opinions regarding Muggleborns are unknown to Hermione.

 _Oh Newt._ Poor sweet Newt looks as though he's been punched in the gut, a sad, worried expression pulling at his face.

Hermione pulls her arm from Tina's grip with a gentle tug, dropping it her side, not bothering to hide it, expression defiant as her eyes fall on the British Envoy as if challenging him to say something rude. The man looks away, disgust clear on his face. Newt follows her gaze, understanding filling his expression as his eyes fall upon the man's form.

"I don't understand…" Tina intones quietly from her side.

"It's a highly derogatory term for a Muggleborn Witch or Wizard; that is, a Witch or Wizard born to Muggles, or No-Maj as you call them here." She says, voice low, expression softening ever so slightly at the woman's confused expression.

 _She didn't know._ A small voice whispers in Hermione's mind. She feels no ill will towards the woman before her.

"It's a term used by those prejudiced against Muggleborns, individuals who consider themselves to be of better breeding than those without two Wizarding parents. These individuals consider Muggleborn Witches and Wizards to be of "lower breeding" or worth, and undeserving of Magic. Yes, I'm a Mudblood, and proud of it!" She continues, voice louder now, clearly heard throughout the echoing room.

 _Of all the reckless things to do._ Her mind chides, the tone reminding her of her younger self.

Her statement is met with furious whispers from the assembled crowd, many of their expressions telling. She can't help but smirk slightly as she looks to Newt, his mouth hung open, eyes filled with a touch of admiration as he closes his mouth, an odd sort of smile twisting his lips as he turns from her.

"Merlin's beard." He says in a breathless voice and silence fills the chamber at his exclamation.

"You know which of your creatures was responsible, Mr. Scamander?" A beautiful witch with dark hair, Hermione recognizes as Madam Ya Zhou, intones from the crowd, having collected herself easily after Hermione's outburst.

"No creature did this... don't pretend! You must know what that was; look at the marks..." The words rush from Newt's mouth as Hermione follows his gaze, eyes widening in recognition as she spots the hologram depicting the mangled corpse of a man.

"That was an Obscurus." He says, tone grave.

The room fills with noise once more as Hermione finds herself lost in memory.

* * *

 _Obscurial. The word circles about her mind as if taunting her, a snarl tears from her lips, feet firm against the cold stone floor as she stands, the contents of her desk flying across the room, the sound of breaking glass and heavy thuds filling the room. Her eyes burning as she blinks the tears from her eyes, breath coming in ragged gasps before falling back into her chair with gulp of air, the sound of sobs fill the space now… a sound that would permeate the office for many hours yet._

 _It was only a few short weeks after her promotion to head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when the incident report came across her desk. The word meant little to her at first, a fleeting memory, nothing more than a blurb from a book, stored in the back of her mind._

 _The Obscurial, host for the Obscurus, a parasitic and dark force, is the physical manifestation of the repressed energy of a magical child (or Obscurial). A physical manifestation of energy created when a young Witch or Wizard is forced to repress their talent thorough physical or psychological abuse. When unleashed the force is violent and destructive. The children in question almost always die before their 10th birthday._

 _By this point in time Obscurial and Obscurus were basically a non-issue in much of the world thanks to the protections put in place by Muggle authorities in regards to the treatment of children, of course, some cases still slipped through the cracks, but still the creation of an Obscurial was rare._

 _To learn that an Obscurus was wreaking havoc upon the Greater London area came as a shock to Hermione and many of her colleagues. Not all Muggle parents were as accepting as magic as Hermione's own had been. She knew that but still she found it difficult to shake her shock._

 _The incident report stated that the child in question was a young girl, aged 9. The young girl was sent to live with her distant, Muggle relatives after the untimely death of her parents at the age of 4, this particular branch of the child's family were known in the community to be devoutly religious. When faced with the young girl's accidental magic at a young age her relatives panicked, fear and hate filling their hearts. They believed the young girl to be possessed and attempted to beat the "evil" out of her, often locking her in a small room where they withheld food and recited scripture through the hard wood door._

 _This abuse, both physical and mental continued for quiet a while until finally the young girl snapped, releasing the Obscurus within, freeing herself from the small room before killing one of her Guardians._

 _Once free the young girl ran, lost and alone, with little knowledge of the outside world. She was easy prey for the less savory types that could often be found in less reputable sections of the city. Odd reports of an invisible force tearing up entire city block leaving behind the mangled remains of unfortunate victims began flooding into the Muggle authorities until finally someone with knowledge of Obscurial alerted the appropriate offices within the Ministry._

 _Which is how the Incident Report found it's way onto her desk and within the hour she assembled a task force of her most knowledgeable and trustworthy agents before giving the order to find the young girl and somehow bring her in alive._

 _That order and the events following would haunt Hermione for the foreseeable future._

* * *

 _It wouldn't do to dwell on such things now._ Hermione thinks with a shake of her head, ears once more filling with the muttering and exclamations increasing in volume in the chamber.

"You go too far, Mr. Scamander. There is no Obscurial in America. Impound that case, Graves!" Seraphina Picquery demands from her spot on the floor.

Hermione's eyes dart to Percival Graves as he stands, summoning the case. It lands next to him. Hermione and Newt draw their wands at the same time, the occupants of the Hall becoming increasingly tense.

"No... Give that b-!" Newt begins to say to Graves, clearly distraught.

Hermione raises her arm, wand pointed at Graves, spell on her lips as Madam Picquery's voice fills the room once more.

"Arrest them!" She shouts.

And with that all hell breaks loose and a number of spells come flying at the group standing close together in the centre of the room. Hermione's senses go into overdrive, a sliver of panic building an invisible force feeling as though it's choking the life from her.

 _Danger!_ Her mind shouts as though she's back in the final year of the war, on the run from Death Eaters and the Ministry, fighting for her life. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her magic screaming for action. She grips her Vinewood Wand tight in her hand.

"Protego Maxima!" Hermione intones stepping forward, raising her wand in the air.

A small, low-level shield forms around the group in a stunning display of magic. A shimmering, blue bathed dome descends around them, separating the opposing sides just as the first volley of spells reach the group. Silence falls over the group as the shield falls into place. The colourful array spells cast in their direction exploding in a rain of sparks as they crash against the dome.

While still more powerful than any other variation of the shield charm, the Protego Maxima Hermione chose to use was not as large or powerful as the one cast in combination with Fianto Duri and Repello Inimicum that Professor Flitwick put in place during the final battle.

Breathing heavily, Hermione continues to hold her wand hand steady, ready and willing to strike at a moment's notice. She barely registers the shocked exclamations coming from Tina and Jacob behind her.

"Stunning." The single word registers in her mind now, Newt's quiet, wonder filled voice reaching her through the panic and adrenaline.

Wand still held high, the Magic of the shield withstanding the steady barrage of spells being fired at it, Hermione looks over her shoulder at Newt standing only a few steps away. His mouth parted, eyes wide, a small amount of apprehension leaking into his expression as though another piece of the puzzle has slid firmly into place.

Her eyes slide towards Jacob and Tina's shocked forms just as Jacob reaches out to touch the shield.

"Don't touch it!" She nearly shouts, panic gripping her once more as she struggles to remain focused, sending a steady stream of power into the shield.

Jacob pauses, his fingers a hairs breadth away from the shimmering blue dome. He looks to her in shock before dropping his hand once more.

Suddenly a crackling sound fills the air, Hermione's head whips around, stray curls smacking her, Poppy's loud clacking filling her ear as if in warning. The blueish white light of a shield penetration spell smacks against the dome, a small crack forming in the place the two spells meet. She narrows her eyes following the path of the spell back to its caster. Percival Graves stands a short way off, wand raised, an excited look on his face.

 _Odd._ The thought filters through her mind as she her magic falters slightly under the constant barrage of spells, his spell the first chink in her shield's armour. Biting hard on her lip, teeth breaking the skin of her bottom lip in her effort to hold the barrier. She glares at the man as another shield penetration spell shoots from his wand, barreling towards the group.

She can't help but think the look on his face would be more at home on a cat toying with its prey.

The blueish white spell hits the same spot again, the shield shuddering under the force of the spell.

A whining sound fills the air around her as the sound begins to filter in once more, the crack spreading further until finally the shield falters, falling under the constant force being applied. She registers the spells whizzing past her from the corner of her eyes as if in slow motion. Spells hit Jacob, Newt and Tina, sending them to the floor, knees smacking hard against the shining marble.

Her focus narrows, eyes solely focused on the man known as Percival Graves, a small smirk curves his lips as he sends a powerful stunner. Slashing her wand through the air Hermione produces a small but powerful shield, absorbing the spell, a foot sliding behind her in an attempt to steady herself as the force of the spell pushes her back. She can't help the sneer that curves her lips, the urge to fight growing stronger now. She moves her hand in the beginnings of a pattern, an offensive spell on her lips as a spell smacks into her side.

 _'Constant Vigilance!'_ Her mind screams in a rather accurate imitation of Mad-Eye Moody as she falls to her knees. She feels her wand being pulled from her hand by magic, eyes wide and angry as her and Newt's Wands fly through the air, into the waiting hand of Percival Graves. He picks up Newt's beaten old case before walking towards the incapacitated foursome.

"No- no- don't hurt those creatures- please, you don't understand- nothing in there is dangerous, nothing!" Newt shouts from the floor now magically restrained.

A mixture of guilt, regret and empathy fill her now, the sneer falling from her lips as Newt begs from his position on the floor. How she wishes she could help him now. If only she had been stronger, faster, more focused...

 _Stronger._ If only her shield charm had held.

 _Faster._ She fought in a war... how could she be taken down so quickly.

 _Focused._ She shouldn't have let her guard down. Why didn't she think to summon Newt's case to them before erecting the barrier?

Tears form in the corners of her eyes, the mental barrage of criticism consuming her.

"We'll be the judges of that!" Seraphina Picquery intones before addressing the Auror's now standing behind them.

"Take them to the cells!" She commands.

Hermione's eyes stay firmly on the floor as they're hauled to their feet, restraints placed around their wrists. A single tear falling down her face as Newt's normally gentle voice fills the room once more.

"Don't hurt those creatures- there is nothing in there that is dangerous. Please don't hurt my creatures- they are not dangerous... Please, they are not dangerous!" He screams, desperation clear in his voice as they're dragged from the room, the heavy doors swinging shut with a resounding thud behind them.

* * *

The foursome sit in a MACUSA holding cell awaiting word of their fate, Newt with his head in his hands sits in one corner to one end of the bench, an aura of utter despair for his lost creatures swirling about him, muttering quietly under his breath. Hermione sits at the opposite end of the bench lost in her thoughts.

 _They took my bag... they took my bloody bag, full to the brim with sensitive information._ She curses in her mind, head in her hands, recalling the moments before they were shoved into the cell, the struggle that ensued as they attempted to remove her purse. The way Tina and Jacob watched on in confusion, Newt too wrapped in his own misery to notice. In the end the Aurors' were able to wrestle the purse from her body by physical force alone, though she had managed to catch one of them between the legs with a swift, well-aimed kick.

 _Served him right._ She thinks, a small amount of pride sparking before being extinguished as she thinks of the consequences once more. A bag full of sensitive future knowledge, somewhere within the MACUSA, herself once more a criminal in the eyes of the law and she had no idea the kind of punishment this era of the MACUSA were fond of.

 _Doomed._ The single word fills her mind as she lifts her face eyes falling on Newt's muttering, hunched form.

 _Both of us are doomed._ She corrects running a hand over her now exposed face in frustration. Tina and Jacob would probably be fine. Jacob Obliviated and sent on his way, robbed of his newfound knowledge regarding Magic and the Wizarding world but no one worse for wear. Her mouth pulls into a frown at the thought. While not the worst fate it was still one that she found distasteful.

Tina would probably receive a slap on the wrist for her actions, but Hermione and Newt... They both drew their Wands' in the Pentagram Office, in sight of Dignitaries and High-Ranking officials from every single continent. More to the point, Newt was believed to have loosed an Obscurus on the city of New York and Hermione, an unknown British citizen, a Muggle-Born witch, very nearly attacked a high-ranking official in site of the President and all the assembled to see. Not to mention her statements regarding 'Mudbloods' and the rather spectacular display of advanced magic she performed in their sight.

Oh yes Hermione Granger and Newt Scamander were most certainly doomed.

"I am so sorry about your creatures, Mr. Scamander, I truly am." Tina breaks the silence in the room, clearly on the verge of tears.

Hermione sighs, as Newt remains silent his head still in hands.

"Can someone please tell me what this Obscurial-Obscurius thing is? Please?" Jacob asks from his spot against the wall, voice carrying.

"There hasn't been one for centuries-" Tina begins before being cut off by Newt.

"I met one in Sudan three months ago. There used to be more of them but they still exist. Before Wizards went underground, when we were still being hunted by Muggles, young Wizards and Witches sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid persecution. Instead of learning to harness or to control their powers, they developed what was called an Obscurus." Newt begins in way of explanation.

"It's the repressed magical energy of a Magical child, a result of strong emotional distress, and energy that is released when the child or Obscurial loses control, reaching their physical and mental breaking point. This energy manifests as an invisible, parasitic, dark force that when released is unstable, uncontrollable, violent and extremely destructive until it disappears, returning to its host once more." Hermione explains as though reciting a passage from a textbook after noticing Jacob's confusion.

Tina seems to realize something then.

"Obscurials' can't survive long can they?" She asks, glancing between Hermione and Newt.

"There's no documented case of any Obscurial surviving past the age of ten. The one I met in Africa was eight when she-she was eight when she died." Newt explains, his voice wavering at the mention of the young girl.

"'No documented case', 'documented' being the key word." Hermione can't help but add in, as though they were having an academic debate, instead of sitting in a holding cell, explaining the reason they'd been locked up in the first place.

Newt and Tina turn their gazes sharply to her now. She shrinks back slightly at the intensity of their stares, cursing her mouth and inability to keep some knowledge and opinions to herself.

"You-" Newt begins before being cut off by Tina, a look of irritation crossing his face as his eyes slide over to the young woman's form.

"What do you mean?" The statement that tears from Tina's lips is more of a demand than a question.

"Uh-just a hunch." Hermione finishes lamely, averting her gaze, unwilling to share her suspicions regarding an incident that occurred in 1899 to the room, a theory which made its presence known after her own experience with an Obscurial.

"What are you telling me here-that Senator Shaw was killed by a- by a kid?" Jacobs asks, breaking the silence that filled the room after Hermione's answer.

Silence fills the room once more, their expressions telling. Jacob receives all the answer he needs.

* * *

 **Author Notes** : **Crimson-Midnight-Moon:** Ahaha sorry for the wait dear ;)

 **feline17** : I'd have to agree... i'm not quite sure she'll truly be able to stay away from changing anything either but I suppose we'll see. I've heard of the show though admittedly I haven't got around to checking it out (i'm deep in the anime hole atm, the fall season is just ending for many shows.) Ahaha now that's an idea that makes me giggle, Newt keeping Hermione in his case with his beasts. I'm not sure a girl like Hermione would appreciate being stuffed in a case for the foreseeable future. Ahh I know, I didn't hate Tina in the movie but I just wanted to scream at her at times... she actually kind of reminds me of a younger Hermione in some ways, like her eager to please attitude and the way she closely follows the rules. I'm trying my hardest not to cast her in a horrible light because I don't really think she deserves that even if i'm basically shoving her to the side forcefully in order to inject Hermione into the story.

 **RoPete** **:** I've actually only seen the film the one time. I'd love to see it again but I have anxiety attacks and sadly being in a dark, loud theatre with a bunch of other people is a nightmare... I was surprised I managed to hold it together the first time, so I imagine i'll have to wait for it be released on DVD before watching it again. I bought a copy of the screenplay before seeing the film which is how, with a combination of the screenplay, research and my own memory i've been able to recreate the film in such a way. I really wanted you guys to be able to relive the film vividly through my writing so i'm glad it's working!

 **S. Apollymi** : Huh... now that's an idea! I can't say i'm sure since I haven't started the next chapter yet but I think i'll probably stick to the film. Not quite sure! We'd be dealing with a very serious problem if everyone learned about the knowledge swimming around in her head!

 **Paystin4life** : Oh don't you worry they'll give in eventually ;)


	12. Hermione Who?

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** As always thank-you everyone for the reviews, I take great joy in reading them after every new chapter and thank you to The Queen of Thornes for doing another wonderful job editing this chapter and even helping me out with editing the previous chapters! Also just for being a generally awesome person!

I love that you guys check for updates everyday... I do the exact same thing for stories I really love on here! Though fair warning i'll probably be sticking to an every other day system (when possible) for posting for the time being at least. Lucky for you when i'm interested in something I hardcore obsess over it for quite a while... not so lucky for you the Fall 2016 anime season is just coming to an end and I run an anime blog... Putting together my year end lists and reviews for the animes offered up this year atm. But so far i've managed to make time for both and the other things I need to take care of in real life!

Any replies to messages are at the bottom again!

Also i'm thinking Newmione as well. That ship name seems to be everyone's favourite and it works for me!

* * *

Not long after being placed in the MACUSA holding cell, three women dressed in white coats arrived. They opened the barred door without word, collecting Hermione, Newt and Tina, swiftly escorting them out of the cell, as Jacob protested from his place against the wall.

The three women lead the trio down to a dark basement, away from the cell and Newt turns, looking back to Jacob still held in the cell, now very much alone.

"It was good to make your acquaintance, Jacob, and I hope you get your bakery." Newt says to Jacob over his shoulder, truly meaning every single word.

Hermione gives Jacob a small smile of her own, her expression falling as she notices the frightened look on the poor man's face as he clutches at the bars of the cell, left behind. He waves forlornly after the trio as they're lead deeper into the depths of the MACUSA.

* * *

Hermione examines the interrogation room around her, her and Newt's hands bound behind their backs and uncomfortably seated in hard metal seats across from Graves. Hermione ignores Graves and the bright light pointed directly at the pair choosing instead to focus on the room around her. It's a small, bare room with black walls and a distinct lack of windows, a single door behind them, the only means of escape. Graves sits with his shoulders back, posture strong, a file open in front of him. Beside her Newt stares at the man across from them, squinting, the bright light shining directly into his eyes.

Finally Tina stands behind the pair, flanked by who she learned would soon be their Executioners.

 _Clearly they aren't so lax when it comes to Criminals in America._ She thinks with a shake of her head, turning to focus on Graves as he speaks. Easily guessing what their sentence would be.

"You're an interesting pair." Graves begins looking between Hermione and Newt, an intrigued look entering his eyes as he lingers on Hermione for a beat too long before he averts them once more.

"Very interesting..." A pause. "I'm most interested to hear what you both have to say for yourselves, but let's start with Mr. Scamander." He says with a tone of finality.

"You're an interesting man, Mr Scamander." He begins, focusing solely on Newt.

"Mr. Graves-" Tina intones from behind, her shoes scuffing the floor as she moves forward.

 _What is she a child?_ Hermione scoffs, as Graves holds a finger to his lips, signalling for Tina to be silent. The gesture patronising, but authoritative.

From the corner of her eye Hermione notices that Tina looks kowtowed, the young woman obeying quickly, stepping back into the shadows. Graves takes a moment to examine the file laid out before him.

"You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life-" He begins, addressing Newt.

"That was an accident!" Newt argues in his defence.

"-with a beast. Yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so _fond_ of you?" Graves asks.

 _And what makes you so interested in where Albus Dumbledore's attentions lie?_ Hermione questions silently, eyes narrowing as she stares at Graves, a curious expression crossing her face. She can't quite place what it is, but there's something _off_ about the man.

 _No matter the time period it always comes back to the great Albus Dumbledore._ She thinks in a sardonic tone.

"I really couldn't say." Newt responds, voice somewhat calmer now.

"So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was just another accident, is that right?" Graves questions, pushing forward once more.

Hermione can't help the snort that escapes her at the question and all Graves's attention is on her now, an irritated expression crossing his face.

"Do you find something about this funny?" He asks quirking his brow.

"Well they could hardly be considered a pack." She says in way of an explanation, eyes steady and unblinking as she meets Graves' gaze.

"And what word would you use?" He asks leaning back in his chair, his expression giving her the distinct impression he's issuing a challenge.

 _Oh good job Granger, irritating your interrogator, that will really help your case._ She thinks in a self deprecating tone.

Unwilling to draw even more attention to her person she averts her gaze, eyes landing on a spot on the wall just beyond Graves head, a small shrug shifting her body.

"Why would I do it deliberately?" Newt asks, drawing the rooms attention to him once more.

"To expose Wizardkind. To provoke war between the Magical and Non-Magical worlds." Graves concludes, folding his hands on the desk before him.

"Mass slaughter for the Greater Good, you mean?" Hermione freezes as the words leave Newt's mouth, that oh so familiar phrase.

 _'The Greater Good'_ She gulps, mouth dry, a chill falling over her body.

Unbeknownst to her both Newt and Graves are watching her closely from the corner of their eyes, taking note of her every move.

"I'm not one of Grindelwald's fanatics, Mr. Graves." Graves expression changes at Newt's words, a menacing look spreading across his face.

"I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr. Scamander?" Hermione's gaze settles on the man across the table once more as with a slow move of his hand, he raises up the Obscurus from Newt's case.

Her breath catches in her throat as he brings it onto the desk. The contained Obscurus pulsing, swirling and hissing… it's form resembling a cloak made of smoke. A feeling of dread and unease fills the room.

Graves reaches a hand toward the Obscurus and it's clear to Hermione that he's utterly fascinated. At his sudden close proximity, the Obscurus swirls faster, bubbling and shrinking backward.

 _Odd._ Hermione thinks, her interest piqued as the Obscurus reacts to Graves.

"It's an Obscurus-" Newt's voice breaks her from her thoughts, gaze falling on his distressed form as she looks about the room.

"But it's not what you think. I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl as I tried to save her- I wanted to take it home to study it-" He continues eyes moving frantically between Tina and Graves as if attempting to convince them.

Hermione looks over her shoulder at the woman behind her. A look of shock and is that doubt is clear on Tina Goldstein's face.

"Oh honestly-" Hermione begins silencing Newt in an attempt to help the floundering man."Once separated from it's host the Obscurus dies. No host, no power. The only thing keeping it alive is the bubble it's encased in- even if it were to somehow break out of that bubble it would die instantly, no harm would come to anyone." Hermione continues, noticing from the corner of her eye as Newt's mouth falls open, the words stolen from his mouth. A curious and surprised expression on his face.

 _I don't see why he's so surprised. I've already demonstrated myself to be quite knowledgeable about Obscurial and Obscurus._ She thinks, furrowing her brows. A huff of breath escapes her lips as she pushes forward.

"More to the point Newt was right to take it home to study it. Just think of information that could be gleaned from studying the Obscurus. The innocent lives that could be saved if he were to find a way to safely separate the Obscurus from the host without killing them-"

Graves cuts her impassioned speech short. "So it's useless without the host?" He questions, latching onto that one small fact.

Hermione scoffs at the simple-mindedness of the question.

"'Useless?' 'Useless?' That is a parasitical magical force that killed a child. What on earth would you use it for?" Newt questions clearly outraged by Graves statement.

Hermione looks to Newt, anger radiating from his person, blue eyes narrowed, mouth pulled tight, as he looks at Graves. The man realizing his mistake.

"You fool nobody, Mr. Scamander. You brought this Obscurus into the city of New York in the hope of causing mass disruption- breaking the statute of Secrecy and revealing the Magical World-" He bites out, brushing off the questions, turning the blame back onto Newt as he stands.

"You know that can't hurt anyone, you know that!" Newt shouts, all semblance of composure gone.

"-you are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow Wizards and are sentenced to death. Miss Goldstein and Miss- _Hermione_ , who have aided and abetted you-" Graves continues, ignoring Newt's protests.

 _I was wrong_ , Hermione thinks, horror filling her, apparently Tina is now viewed as an accomplice as well… _so much for a slap on the wrist._

"No, they've done nothing of the kind-" Newt protests looking from the shell-shocked Tina to Hermione who's sitting straight in her seat, her face carefully blank at the verdict.

"-receive the same sentence." Graves finishes as the three Executioners step forward. Hermione and Newt are pulled to their feet as the Executioners calmly and intrusively, press the tip of their wands into the trio's necks.

"No." Graves intones motioning to Hermione, her personal Executioner pauses, wand easing away from her neck slightly. "Not her. Not yet... I still have some questions for her." He finishes and turns to the Executioners' holding Newt and Tina. "Just do it immediately. I will inform President Picquery myself." He informs them, dismissing them with a motion of his hand.

Hermione grunts as she's roughly pushed back into her seat, the Executioner's wand now removed from the back of her neck.

"Hermione." Newt begins frightened eyes falling on her turned back.

Graves places a finger to his lips once more.

"Shh." he intones, waving to the executioners once more.

"Please." And with that final word they're gone, leaving Hermione and Graves alone, the only witness her would-be executioner.

* * *

Newt and Tina are pulled from the room, Newt struggling against the woman's tight grip, the wand pressing even harder into his neck as he watches the door swing shut behind them, blocking Hermione's form from view.

"Hermione..." He whispers voice laden with fear and desperation.

Next to him Tina is shocked, unable to speak.

He struggles against his captor once more Hermione's name becoming a prayer as it falls from his lips in a mantra. His prayers unanswered as they're pulled further down the hall, the door disappearing from view.

The young woman who took a fall through time, a woman he was growing quite fond of was taken from him just now and he didn't know if he'd see her ever again.

* * *

"You may leave." Graves intones with a wave of his hand, motioning to the woman at Hermione's side.

"But, sir-" The woman begins in protest before being silenced with a look.

Yes, Sir." She says with a slight bow, stepping into the hall to await further instruction.

Graves takes a seat once more, dark eyes falling on Hermione's form.

"I've taken quite the interest in you Hermione." He begins, flipping the open file closed with a flick of his wrist.

"How exactly did you find yourself in New York City?" He asks leaning forward, eyes never once leaving her person as he props his elbows on the table, folding his fingers together beneath his chin as if in thought.

"Bit of travelling." Hermione answers, voice betraying nothing.

"Hmm-" The sound punctuates the silence surrounding them, Poppy seeming to understand the the gravity of the situation remaining silent for once.

"And where did you receive your education?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head, dark eyes narrowed.

"A powerful witch such as yourself must have received some sort of education during early life." Silence permeates the air as Hermione remains silent, her mouth set in a firm line, no believable lie forthcoming.

Newt had been right, there was no way to explain where she had received her education. There was no official documentation to back up any claim and her now well known blood status instantly disqualified her from claiming she was home-schooled.

"No answer. Let's go over what we already know shall we?" He begins, dropping his arms to lay flat on the desk.

* * *

In the shabby basement meeting room of the MACUSA, Queenie Goldstein is carrying a tray of coffee and mugs toward a meeting room. Suddenly she freezes, eyes widening as a look of terror cross her face. She drops the tray, cups smashing on the floor.

A number of low-level MACUSA employees turn to stare at her. Queenie stares back, stunned, before running from the room down the corridor.

* * *

An amused smirk settles across Graves's face as her continues to stare at Hermione from his position of power, across the table of the interrogation room.

"A young muggle-born witch looking to be in her early 20's, clearly British suddenly arrives, illegally, in New York, coincidentally, at the same time as one Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, a registered British citizen." He says emphasising the word registered.

"The young woman, refusing to give any further name but Hermione, was then brought in with Mr. Scamander and Mr. Kowalski by Tina Goldstein under the assumption that she was an accomplice to Mr. Scamander's apparent crime. Once the order for arrest was given said woman openly resisted arrest, fully intending to fight the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and presumably all those in attendance if need be in order to escape incarceration. A young woman who clearly has a wealth of knowledge concerning Magical Beasts' and the parasitic force currently wreaking havoc on New York, the unknown Obscurus. Are you with me so far?" A pause fills the air, Hermione's jaw is set in stubborn line, her gaze unwavering, giving no reaction to his words.

"What's truly interesting is the fact that their is no information, at all, regarding your person. Even without knowing your family name, there is no record of any woman, within your age range having the name Hermione on the British registry of Witches and Wizards. No record of your birth, school acceptance and attendance, home address, family, travels, or records of you purchasing your wand anywhere in Europe." He continues, pulling a hand off the table, reaching into his jacket, pulling Hermione's wand from the folds.

"10 ¾ inch, vine wood, with dragon heartstring core?" He asks smoothing his fingers across the vine design running the length of her wand.

"Hmm, Vine wood, not commonly found in the construction of wands, their ideal owners nearly always being Witches or Wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths..." He muses as though talking to himself, the wand bending slightly under the pressure applied by his fingers at either end.

An audible gulp fills the air as Hermione watches with wide eyes as the wood bends under the pressure, fear filling her, so very afraid it will snap in his hands. Graves watches her, an amused smirk curves his lips as he eases up on the pressure, turning the wand in his hands.

"The core, Dragon Heartstring I believe. Wands with this core often produce the most power, capable of the most flamboyant spells. They tend to learn quicker than other types and always bond strongly with their current owner, though they can easily change allegiance. A somewhat temperamental core. It is believed that the dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord... a rather powerful wand Miss-" He finishes, setting the wand on the table beside him, dark eyes boring into Hermione's own.

"I have to ask… Hermione _who_?" He asks, and Hermione can't help but think he's mocking her.

 _'Hermione who', gods I'm beginning to hate that question. I just want to scream 'I'm Hermione Jean Granger' at the top of my lungs if only to shut them up._ She thinks angrily, but she doesn't speak, and they continue their staring contest, eyes locked.

"Hermione Granger." Hermione's breath catches as Graves amused voice fills the room.

"I think we can come to some sort of arrangement Ms. Granger, don't you." He intones, eyes shining with triumph.

"Bugger-" Hermione whispers, eyes dropping to the floor as panic grips her, making it feel as though all the air has been ripped from the room.

 _He's a Legilimens…_

* * *

Newt and Tina stand in a large, pure white cell, a single chair suspended Magically over a square pool of rippling potion. A single guard stands at the door, the Executioners at their sides.

"Don't do this- Bernadette- please-" Tina begs the woman beside her.

"It don't hurt." Bernadette whispers in way of comfort, leading Tina to the edge of the pool.

Panic is clear on Tina's face, her breathing heavy and erratic as the woman raises her wand and carefully extracts Tina's happy memories from her head. Tina instantly calms, her expression now vacant, her mind seemingly at peace.

With a flick of her wrist, the Executioner casts the memories into the potion filled pool, which ripples, coming alive with scenes from Tina's life much like a large Pensive.

A scene of a much younger Tina and her Mother fills the pool, The real Tina watches, smiling down at the scene.

"Don't that look good. You wanna get in? Huh?" The Executioner urges at her side.

Tina nods vacantly in response, unable to pull her gaze away from the scene playing before her.

* * *

 _Legilimency..._ The single word flits through her mind as she attempts to control her breathing, calming her rapidly beating heart. She stares at a spot on the otherwise impeccable table, her mind flipping rapidly through the facts and pieces of history regarding Percival Graves stored there.

 _I need to get out of here!_ She thinks landing on a section dedicated to her knowledge surrounding Percival Graves.

"Percival Graves, an Auror, Director of Magical Security and head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Said to be somewhat of an authoritarian; being very shrewd and single-minded, but 'not a bad guy'." Hermione begins lifting her gaze, looking at a spot on the wall just beyond his face, trying her best to avoid meeting his gaze once more.

 _Queenie doesn't seem to need eye contact..._ The quiet voice reminds her, causing Hermione to bite down on her lip, deciding to take the gamble, needing to distract the man more.

"Known to be a powerful wizard by those who know him, exceptionally skilled with superior magical ability. An extremely skilled duellist if your promotion to Director of Magical Security is anything to go by." She continues as Graves throws his head back, a loud, amused laugh bursting from his lips.

Hermione quickly takes a chance while his eyes are turned from her, steadying herself and wandlessly summoning a small pin from the pocket of her trousers.

"Heard of me then?" He asks with no small amount of amusement in his voice.

"Yes." She confirms with a small incline of her head.

With a fair amount of difficulty she manages to twist her wrists in such a way that she's able to insert the pin into the small keyhole of one of her restraints. While not familiar with this specific brand of restraints, she assumes that Magic will probably not work on them, but no further measures tend to be put in place on such items to prevent escape through more... _muggle_ means.

"As head of Magical law enforcement it seems likely that you have an advanced knowledge of magical law. More to the point as the Director of Magical Security I wouldn't be wrong in assuming that you're trained and skilled in the use of defensive charms and counter-curses. Are you with me so far Mr. Graves?" She continues, the final words falling from her mouth in a mimicry of his earlier words.

She watches from the corner of her eye as he nods, the smirk never once leaving his face, his arms crossing over his chest, posture relaxed.

 _Aha, Got you!_ She exclaims in her mind as she feels the the lock give into her persistent efforts, one side of the cuffs popping open, her hand slightly muffling the sound.

She gently pulls her hand from the restraint, holding it hidden behind her back, watching, waiting for an opening.

* * *

Queenie now stands in the middle of the crowded MACUSA lobby. The elevator sounds and the doors open revealing Jacob, escorted by a well dressed man. Queenie rushes to the pair, a determined look on her face.

"Hey, Sam!" She greets the well dressed man, sidling up beside the walking pair.

"Hey, Queenie." He responds, glancing in her direction.

"They need you downstairs. I'll Obliviate this guy." She lies, glancing towards Jacob.

"You ain't qualified." Sam replies.

"Hey, Sam-does Cecily know you been seeing Ruby?" She asks, easily reading his mind as Jacob would read a book.

"How'd you-? Sam asks looking appalled.

"Let me Obliviate this guy and she'll never hear about it from me." She promises a small smile on her face.

Stunned, Sam backs away. Queenie seizes Jacob's arm and marches him off across the cavernous lobby.

"What are you doin'" Jacob asks clearly confused.

"Shh! Teen's in trouble, I'm trying to listen-" Queenie pauses, a look of concentration crossing her face.

"Jacob, where's Newt's case?" She suddenly asks.

"I think that guy Graves took it-" Jacob answers, somewhat unsure.

"Okay, come on-" She replies, her pace faster now.

"What? You're not gonna Obliviate me?" Jacob asks, shocked.

"Of course not- you're one of us now!" She replies pulling him toward the main staircase, steps hurried.

* * *

In the death cell Tina now sits in the execution chair, eyes locked firmly on the swirling liquid projecting her memories below her.

"It's okay." She says in response to the scene playing out before her, staring into the pool, smiling wistfully.

Newt glances down his arm, his worried blue eyes following Pickett as he clambers down his arm, quiet and agile, toward the shackles holding Newt's hands.

* * *

"Alohomora." Queenie's quiet voice fills the air of the corridor outside Graves's office.

Her and Jacob stand awkwardly before the door to his office, Queenie desperately trying to open the door.

"Aberto..." Again, the door doesn't budge.

"Ugh. He would know a fancy spell to lock his office." Queenie whispers furiously, clearly frustrated.

* * *

Pickett succeeds in unlocking the shackles holding Newt's wrists before quickly climbing onto the executioner closest to him.

"Okay, let's get the good stuff out of you-" The Executioner begins raising her wand to Newt's forehead.

As the wand tip presses firmly against his skin, Newt seizes his opportunity. Jumping backward out of the way, putting space between him and his would be Executioner, before revealing the creature he keeps on his person known as the Swooping Evil, which he throws forward, toward the pool.

He turns swiftly, overcoat fluttering with the motion and punches the guard, knocking him out cold before he even has a chance to defend himself.

* * *

Hermione slides the pin into the back pocket of her trousers, careful to keep most of her body still as to not alert Graves before pushing forward, voicing her suspicions, preparing to act.

"Apparently rather capable of non verbal and wandless magic, but... correct me if i'm wrong... Percival Graves was not a known practitioner of Legilimency. Just _who_ are you?" She finishes, planting her feet firmly on the ground, standing as the amused smirk finally falls from Graves's lips.

A sneer twists his handsome features as he moves for his wand hidden within his jacket. Noticing his movement, Hermione throws her weight forward, the sharp edges of the cool metal slab digging into her hips painfully as she lunges across the table. Her fist connects firmly with his jaw, causing his head to snap back, arms falling to his sides. She grabs her wand, now sitting on the table, her magic singing as her fingers wrap around the smooth wood of the handle. Her hand snaps up, steady as she points her wand at Graves their bodies once more separated by the table.

"Stupefy! Incarcerous!" She yells, the spells falling from her lips, one after another, wand slashing through the air, taking full advantage of Graves's distraction, the red jet of light from the Stupefy slamming into his chest knocking him unconscious before thick ropes shoot from her wand, binding and gagging his now unconscious form.

Hermione takes a deep breath, relaxing her posture slightly, wand still in hand as she turns, glancing at the door behind her.

* * *

The Swooping Evil, an oddly beautiful butterfly-esque reptile with skeletal wings circles the pool.

Pickett clambers onto the Executioners arm with a clack and bites her.

The woman starts, looking at the little twig like creature, giving Newt time to grab her arms and take aim with her wand.

A spell fires, hitting the Executioner Tina referred to as Bernadette, the woman dropping to the ground, her wand clattering from her hand and into the pool. As it falls, the liquid rises up in viscous black bubbles, instantly engulfing the wand.

Tina, still enraptured by the pool continues to watch the memories playing before her. The stool lowering closer and closer to the liquid.

The Swooping Evil glides across the room, knocking the second Executioner to the ground.

* * *

Jacob glances down the corridor outside Graves's office before giving the door a hefty kick. The door swings open with a loud thud, the lock now broken.

Jacob stands guard, looking around for any sign of trouble as Queenie rushes into the office and grabs Newts case and Tina's wand. Just as she's about to leave she notices Hermione's black leather bag, looking a little worse for wear thrown on the ground, a small potions phial shattered, the unknown liquid once contained within pooled around the leather bag.

Gingerly, careful to avoid the unknown liquid she grasps the strap of the bag, slinging it over her shoulder before exiting the room.

* * *

After searching the unconscious Graves's jacket and pocketing his wand, Hermione opens the door of the interrogation room.

"Sir-" The voice of her would be Executioner begins before her words are cut short as Hermione fires off a duo of spells, knocking her unconscious, thick ropes binding and gagging her.

Hermione searches the woman's person, pocketing her wand before levitating her into the room. A quick sequence of low-level warding and locking spells fill the air, settling into place as Hermione takes off in a run.

 _Newt._ She thinks, praying he's still alright and she isn't too late.

* * *

"MR. SCAMANDER!" Tina screams, seemingly having snapped out of her reverie, her voice ringing in the Death Cell.

Newt looks to the young woman. The liquid contained in the pool, surrounding her has now turned to a black bubbling death potion. It rises up, in an ominous display, surrounding Tina on her chair, nearly engulfing her. Tina stands up to get away, almost falling off the chair in her haste. She struggles to regain her balance.

"DON'T PANIC!" Newt shouts in response.

"WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST I DO INSTEAD?" She screams back, clearly thinking him daft.

With a slight frown Newt makes a strange tutting sound, commanding to Swooping Evil to circle the now bubbling pool once more.

"Jump..." He tells her, seeing no other way out of her current predicament.

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" She screams, fear and disbelief clear in her voice as she looks at the Swooping Evil.

"Jump on him." Newt stands on the edge of the pool, watching the Swooping Evil as it circles round and round Tina.

"Tina, listen to me. I'll catch you, Tina!" Newt reassures her, eyes worried as he watches the liquid rise up in waves to Tina's full height. A wave preparing to crash.

"I'll catch you." He continues, voice insistent and oddly calm. "Go!" He cries out suddenly.

Tina jumps between two of the waves just as the Swooping Evil passes.

She lands on its back before hopping quickly forward straight into Newt's open arms.

Newt steadys her, gently guiding her to the side, eyes falling on the Swooping Evil, hand raised, recalling the creature. The creature returns to Newt, cocooning once more as Newt drags his calloused fingers across its now cocooned form as if in thanks.

Looking to Tina once more he jerks his head to the side, directing her attention to the exit.

"Come on! Let's go find Hermione!" And with that the two set off, Newt in the lead, eyes frantic and searching, looking for that mysterious girl with a head full of curls and the most intriguing pair of brown eyes he's ever seen.

* * *

 _Too slow._ Hermione thinks as an alarm sounds, filling the air around her.

Her lungs are burning and her breathing's erratic, her pulse quick as she turns a corner quickly, hurtling through the basement corridor.

 _Need to find Newt._ Her mind shouts, the single thought filling her head as she bites her lip, clutching her wand in a white knuckled grip.

* * *

 **Author Notes** :

Ndavis77: I'm glad you're still loving the story! Ahh I know I have to restrain myself from taking my annoyance out on Tina in the story. I really meant it when I said I don't hate her but sometimes I just want to smack her upside the head! Oh no worries i'm thinking of ways to give them some alone time! I want to see it just as much as you guys ;P I agree with your reasoning for the Newmione ship name. Approved!

Paystin4life: Yes. I think a select few will be finding out about Hermiones trip through time. I don't want every single person in the universe finding out but I think she's going to have a fair amount of trouble keeping it secret!

Nibaloo: Ahah yes that was in english no worries :) Ahhh i'm sorry you find some bits boring. And you caught me! I actually have a few references to Doctor Who scattered throughout the chapters. I absolutely love Doctor Who! Especially the 11th Doctor! Newt reminds me of him a bit actually...

amrawo: Hmmm i'm thinking I will continue it after the movie... just have to figure out where exactly I want to go with it after... I've been making notes of what I could explore later. I have a few ideas but haven't quite settled on a path yet. I mean when you think about it the film only covers what 2-3 days in a period of time? That is not nearly enough time to fully explore and develop Newt and Hermione's relationship... but I do think these 2-3 days are a very good place to start.

Feline17: To be fair Hermione doesn't yet realize that Graves is actually Grindelwald. Honestly... I didn't even think to give the purse some kind of security... oops! Hot damn though those are some good ideas you have there! Hmm hmmm nah no seducing will go on between Graves/Grindelwald and Hermione. I mean she thinks Graves is handsome but nothing beyond that and Graves/Grindelwald just finds her intriguing at the moment... well he may be very annoyed with her now to say the least. Ahhh i'm still not sure how I felt about Grindelwald's appearance at the end of the film... so... white...

TheEngineerGirl: I have now made it one of my goals to seriously deliver the cuteness.

EmaleighFrench: Why do you all have such good ideas! I wish I had thought of that! If Hermione had went with Tina and Newt that definitely would have been a good idea.

KrispiKreme: Ah good to know i'm doing something right. I really didn't want to rush it. Like i've already mentioned this all happens over the course of 2-3 days... Neither of the characters seem like the type to rush into some sort of relationship even with some magical, bond like forces at play. Oh yes I want to see a duel between Grindelwald and Hermione quite badly as well. Epic!


	13. To Hell with the Timeline

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Hello all! The reviews went missing for a time there but I kept seeing the review count increase so I knew you all were still there which encouraged me to continue writing this chapter! Longest one yet! Hope I haven't let any of you down with the story so far and I hope you all continue to enjoy it... I think Hermione may be going a little off course now (you'll understand once you read the chapter) but I still intend to keep much of the films plot intact... she just won't be dwelling over her decisions anymore hopefully. Was that a spoiler? Anyways I'm glad you all liked the last chapter and thank you as always for your kind comments and such! No worries I have no intention of dropping this story anytime soon but it is the Holiday season so some delays are to be expected!

Also, as always, thank you to The Queen of Thornes who somehow manages to make sense of the chapters I send and makes sure that each of the chapters is the best possible quality we can give to you readers!

Replies to reviews are at the bottom as always!

Also with the holidays upon us i'm not sure how busy The Queen of Thornes or I will be so there may not be too many updates but rest assured even if I don't update right away i'm still working away on new chapters for you all!

One final question. Do you find the length of my chapters off putting? Too long? Too short? I honestly don't notice the length until I put what i've written into Doc Manager... I just write until I reach a point that seems like a good place to end any given chapter.

* * *

Jacob and Queenie march along the Death Cell corridor with purpose.

An alarm goes off in the distance and a number of Wizards hurry past the two in the opposite direction in response… Jacob and Queenie increase their pace.

* * *

In the heart of the MACUSA lobby, an alarm blares out across the spacious room.

Confusion is clear among the faces of the crowd, people gather in groups, nervously chattering, others scurry about, urgent and anxious.

A team of Aurors hurry across the lobby, headed directly for the stairs leading down to the basement.

* * *

Hermione runs through the basement corridors, turning a corner, joyous as her eyes alight on the running forms of Newt and Tina. She opens her mouth to shout out a greeting when suddenly the pair are accosted by a small group of Aurors. A growl pulls from Hermione's lips as she watches the the Aurors fire off a barrage of spells and curses at the pair now hidden behind a pair of pillars.

In a flurry of movement Hermione shoots off a volley of her own, her spells hitting most of their marks, incapacitating them.

 _Cursing them while their back is turned... honestly_ She chastises the American Aurors mentally.

All but one are unconscious or otherwise incapacitated and she levels her wand. The lone man turns, wand raised as he looses spell after spell in her direction. She walks forward, briskly and with purpose, slashing her wand through the air, pulling up a shield each time a spell or curse is about to hit her person.

"Hermione!" Newt's shocked voice echoes in the seemingly never ending corridor, he and Tina now exposed. Hermione flashes him a quick smile, momentarily distracted she misses the cutting curse headed her way, her smile turns to a grimace as the spell connects with her side. Slicing through her skin just as easily as it did through the thin fabric of her shirt. Eyes still on the Auror, wand raised, she grits her teeth, her free hand pressing against the bleeding wound.

Even from this distance Hermione can see as Newt's eyes widen in fear and worry, the way his mouth pulls into a tight line as he reaches into his pocket, whipping something into the air with a flick of his wrist.

A quiet gasps falls from Hermione's lips as the most peculiar creature spreads its reptile like wings and takes flight. The creature glides towards Hermione and the Auror, crashing into the surprised man's head, knocking him unconscious as Newt sprints over, long legs crossing the distance between them in no time at all. Tina watches on, wide-eyed from beside the pillar, her own Auror training kicking in as she checks the corridor for anymore surprises.

Newt comes to a stop in front of Hermione, a strange clicking noise falling from his lips as he recalls the creature, which reforms itself into a small cocoon as it falls into his hands, before stuffing in back into the pocket of his overcoat. His warm hands, free once more, cup her cheeks. His expression softens, relief clear, a brilliant smile spreading across his handsome features. Fire floods her body as their skin meets, the pain from the cut in her side all but forgotten as a soft sigh falls from her lips, and all she can focus on is his hands on her cheeks. As soon as the flame begins to engulf her he drops his hands and she remembers the pain in her side, and winces, clutching her side. Newt's eyes widen at her movement.

"It looks worse than it is." Hermione promises with a small smile, pressing her hand more firmly against the wound.

 _There's honestly no telling how bad it is until I get a good look at it..._ She thinks with a small twinge of guilt.

Newts expression is telling, he doesn't believe her and is about to voice his concerns when a noise from further down the corridor catches his attention. More Aurors are coming. He grabs her hand, their fingers lacing together as they take off in a run, Newt leading Hermione through the corridor. Tina joins them in their escape, completely unaware of the mental battle the two are facing, unable to comprehend the sensations attempting to overwhelm their senses.

Hermione's breath catches, heart beating fast as his hand tightens around her own, urging her forward despite the fiery sensation filling her every sense. A feeling that's sure to be overwhelming Newt himself.

The trio sprint around a corner, nearly colliding with Queenie and Jacob.

Newt and Hermione quickly and somewhat reluctantly, untangle their joined hands, both looking far more winded than the short sprint would merit. The five stare at one another, panic on all of their faces.

"Get in!" Queenie says urgently, gesturing to Newt's case.

* * *

Percival Graves moves up a set of stairs with an air of urgency, hand on his jaw, he looks almost wild, anger and panic fighting for dominance on his chiseled features.

Eyes hard and focused straight ahead, he ignores the still blaring alarms and makes his way to his office.

* * *

Queenie moves across the lobby of the MACUSA trying desperately to act natural, and not hurry, while still fully aware of the need to leave.

"Queenie!" A voice shouts from behind her.

Queenie, poised at the top of the stairs, turns and composes herself. A rather flustered looking Abernathy approaches her, straightening his tie, trying to appear calm and authoritative.

"Where are you going?" He asks with a large smile.

"I'm... I'm sick, Mr. Abernathy." Queenie begins, an innocent expression falling over her features, Newt's case hidden behind her back. She coughs a little, widening her eyes for effect.

"Again? Well-what've you got there?" Motioning towards her hands hidden behind her back.

Silence falls over the pair as Queenie thinks, her face quickly breaking into a breathtaking smile.

"Ladies' things." She answers, producing the case, the innocent smile still on her face as she walks up the steps, closing the distance between her and Abernathy. Her gift lending her a helping hand in this moment.

"You wanna take a look? I don't mind." She says to the now clearly embarrassed man.

"Oh! Good gravy, no! I-you get well now!" The poor man says in response.

"Thanks!" Queenie sweetly replies, a smile on her face as she arranges his tie.

She immediately turns and hurries down the stairs, leaving Abernathy, his heart now racing, behind her.

* * *

Percival Graves storms into his office, the hard wood door slamming open forcefully, the lock, previously destroyed, now entirely useless. A growl sounds in the back of his throat as he stalks towards his desk.

A quick glance at the wooden desktop tells him all he needs to know. Newt's case, and all it's contents were gone, as was the wand of Miss Goldstein. A guttural sound fills the room as he sweeps his arm across the surface, sending assorted knick knacks crashing to the marble floor.

He turns, hands rubbing his face, his dark eyes falling on the broken phial and the small puddle of liquid pooled in the corner.

* * *

A young woman, burdened by a heavy stack of paperwork, can't help but peek into the handsome Mr. Graves' office as she hurries past, her supervisor clamoring for the reports in her hands.

The normally composed Department Head is standing in the centre of the room looking as though he's been through the ringer, a bruise blossoming on his chiseled jaw, his hair and clothing dishevelled.

A quiet gasp escapes her parted lips as her eyes fall on the imposing man's face. A dangerous, murderous look contorts his normally handsome features into an expression that would look more at home on the face of a beast. A snarl escapes his lips, a single word filled with so much venom she can't help but squeak.

"Granger."

The young woman moves, her heels clicking against the floor as she makes a speedy escape. Vowing to never, ever get on the wrong side of the man known as Percival Graves.

* * *

Once more safely inside Newt's case, the hidden foursome share a collective sigh of relief. While Newt got to work giving Tina a quick rundown of the creatures housed just beyond the small shacks door, Hermione took an inventory of her bags contents, noticing instantly that someone, no doubt Graves, had been snooping in it's depths.

 _Of course he went through it..._ Hermione thinks with a sigh, not entirely surprised by the fact. After taking stock of her bags contents she notices that only one item is missing, the small phial of Essence of Dittany. It was too bad Hermione hadn't had a chance to ask Queenie about the state of her belongings and where she found them before being rushed into Newt's case and safely out of sight.

 _No matter. It could be worse._ She reasons taking a deep breath, shoulders relaxing slightly, as she leans against the counter, now comforted by the fact that none of the more... time sensitive items in her bottomless bag had been taken.

 _That's not to say they weren't found however..._ A feeling of dread fills her at the thought. Yes. The more pressing concern being the question of who was the one charged with searching her belongings. Her mind races, lost in thought, the question of who may now know her secret swirling about her head.

 _Where did she find my bag?_ Suddenly with a start she's pulled from her thoughts, a heavy hand resting on her shoulder. Her eyes flicker up, meeting Newt's steady gaze. She looks around the room in question.

"Jacob and Tina?" She asks a questioning expression on her face at their lack of presence.

"I asked Jacob if he'd like to show her around while I take a look at that cut." Newt says in response, hand falling from its place on her shoulder, eyes dropping to her blood stained shirt once more.

"Up you go." He says with small smile, eyes once again meeting her own, one strong freckled hand patting the counter beside her, an encouraging expression present on his face.

"No r-" Hermione begins to protest before being cut off from a stern look from Newt.

With a small sigh, feeling as though she's just been thoroughly chastised, she complies, thinking it better to just go along with his wishes than to try and argue, pushing her bag a bit further down the counter top, hoisting herself easily into a sitting position.

She watches, eyes following his every move as he removes his overcoat, tossing it on the counter beside her, rolling his sleeves quickly to his elbows. He plucks a small container from the counter, collecting some of the white paste on his fingers before screwing the lid back on and setting it to the side. Shifting a bit awkwardly he looks between her face and her side, a pensive expression on his face.

"Your shirt..." He begins, tongue darting out between his lips.

With a look of understanding she lifts the side of her shirt, wincing as the fabric pulls against the now drying blood, a chill running through her as the cool air dances across her now exposed skin. She lets out a shaking breath as he closes the distance between them, fingers outstretched.

"Ah-Wai-" She starts. The protest dying on her lips, his gentle fingers causing the exact reaction she was just trying to warn him about.

 _Ohh_ Her mind sighs in response to his touch, a trail of heat following the path of his steady fingers as he smooths the cool paste over the shallow wound in her side.

Her breath catches, eyes fluttering shut as the fire roars to life within her veins, growing ever stronger and more wild as silence hangs between them, her heart beating wildly. She clutches the counter top in a white knuckled grip, fingernails scraping against the hardwood of the tables underside.

The world falls away, nothing else matters but the two of them, here and now. His gentle fingers continue their ministrations, smoothing the paste along the length of the cut. The pain from her wound is entirely gone, a radiating heat spreading across her skin, even more persistent than the raging fire within her heart. She opens her eyes, looking at the man bent before her.

His reddish brown hair is wind tossed and wild from their rushed escape. His brilliant blue eyes dark but oh so focused, teeth biting hard into the skin of his lip, a thin sheen of sweat beading across his skin, the most intriguing blush colouring his freckled cheeks.

Her torn skin begins to knit itself together, whatever paste Newt used working. He stands, straightening his back, clearing his throat as his fingers fall from her skin. He reaches to her side, collecting something from the counter before stepping into her line of vision once more, a wet washcloth in hand.

Hermione bites back the protests that beg to be vocalised at their loss of contact, her wide brown eyes falling on his outstretched hand. She reaches forward, taking the proffered washcloth with slightly shaking hands, a small sigh escaping her lips as her rapidly cooling skin makes contact with the damp material.

She raises her gaze once more, eyes falling on Newt's face, a look of longing and loss filling his eyes as he stares at her hand, the cloth cupped lightly in it. She's well aware that it isn't the cloth he's pining over.

She clears her voice, the feminine sound filling the room as their eyes meet once more. Understanding and a promise to explore these curious sensations at a more convenient date making itself known without the need for words.

Hermione gets to work, cleaning the blood from her now healed skin, the only evidence of her encounter, a small thin, silvery scar and her blood stained blouse. Newt steps away busying himself with tidying the counter top beside her.

"What happened?" He asks, voice only cracking the slightest bit at the beginning as he gets his bearings once more.

Hermione turns, startled, dropping her now ruined blouse to cover her exposed skin, placing the dirtied cloth to the side, eyes narrowing in question.

"With Graves." Newt clarifies, turning his body towards her own, leaning slightly against the counter, arms folded over his chest.

 _Good gods he looks attractive..._ She thinks openly tracing the path of his body, paying particular attention to the way his lightly defined muscles make their presence known on the exposed, freckled skin of his arms.

 _I wonder how far those freckles g- FOCUS!_ She finishes the thought with a shout, shaking her head slightly as if to clear her mind, eyes falling on his waiting face.

"He interrogated me. Seemed particularly interested in my past, or lack thereof. Tried to get a rise out of me by playing with my wand… he's got the most irritating smirk." Hermione explains, eyes steady on Newts form as the words fall from her mouth.

His brows furrow in thought, a single finger tapping against his arm.

"It was just interest though, right? He wasn't able to prove anything. No one managed to go through your bag?" He asks eyes landing on her discarded bag.

"He's a Legilimens-" Hermione starts, the words rushing past her lips.

"And someone's been through my bag- I'm not sure who- if we're lucky it wasn't Graves. I didn't have a chance to ask Queenie where she found it before we were rushed in here... but the only thing missing was a small phial of Essence of Dittany." She blurts out in a rush, attempting to placate both Newt and herself.

"Dittany? Like the plant?- So there is a use for it aside from the Wiggenweld potion" He muses latching onto the single word, scientific curiosity aroused, a pause filling the air. "Ah-No. No matter." He starts again, waving his head as if physically shooing the thought from his mind.

"A Legilimens, like Queenie?" He asks, eyes settling once more on her person.

"I'm not quite sure... He asked me that damned question again; 'Hermione who' and I went on a mental tirade, screeching about how my name was 'Hermione Jean Granger' and how I wished to scream it every time that infernal question was asked!" She begins, irritation flooding her, eyes straight ahead as if lost in the memory, arms flailing, cheeks colouring as she begins her rant. "And then suddenly he says; 'Hermione Granger' with this amused expression. Gods how I wanted to sm-"

"Are you sure you didn't say it out loud-" He suddenly blurts out, the sentence cutting off abruptly as he winces, clearly regretting the question as soon as it falls from his lips.

Her head whips to the side once more, angry eyes falling on his person, lips drawn into a tight line. Her entire demeanour challenging him. Demanding if he truly asked that question.

"Yes." She bites out in response, Poppy's angry clacking punctuating the word as she swings to the front, a hair pin brandished, pointed towards Newt. The clacks increase, as though she's delivering an impassioned speech, swinging the pin like the sharpest of swords, jabbing it in his direction violently. A promise of violence if he continues to upset her host.

An incredulous expression fills his face as he looks at the angry Bowtruckle swinging wildly in Hermione's hair. If not for her current anger at the man, the incredulous expression would send Hermione into a giggling fit. With a sigh he holds his hands up in surrender, blue eyes begging as they flicker between the raging Bowtruckle and the irate witch.

"Okay- so he's a Legilimens. That certainly isn't good-but all he managed to get from you was your name." He soothes in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. "Not much he can do with that considering he, himself said there was no information pertaining to your past or person."

Hermione nods, shoulders relaxing slightly, gaze softening as she continues to look at Newt. His eyes widen in question as a thought crosses his mind.

"How in the world did you manage to escape?" He asks, expression curious as he crosses his arms once more.

Hermione's eyes dart to the floor, finding the grooves of the wood particularly interesting, teeth biting into her lower lip.

"I punched him..." She mumbles under her breath, a bit embarrassed by her actions.

"...and I may have stunned and bound him before taking his wand-" She finishes, gaze unmoving at she examines the floorboards in depth.

Silence fills the air around them, a choked sound escaping Newts lips.

Just as she turns a furious expression on him once more a loud knocking sound fills the air. It's Queenie, using their agreed upon signal to alert them that they'e managed to escape.

Hermione and Newt share a look of relief.

* * *

Percival Graves Apparates into an Alleyway beside the Second Salem Church, a loud popping noise filling the air. Credence, startled, backs away, but Graves pays him no mind and makes straight for the young man.

"Credence. Have you found the child?" Graves asks, his tone and manner urgent, forceful even.

"I can't..." Credence answers, fear of Graves reaction apparent in his angular features.

Graves is clearly impatient, though feigning calm, he reaches out his hand towards the young man. A seemingly caring and affectionate gesture.

"Show me." With those two simple words, Credence whimpers and cowers, attempting to back further away from Graves.

Graves gently takes Credence's hand in his own and examines it. The young man's hand is covered in deep red cuts, sore and bleeding.

"Shhhh. My boy, the sooner we find this child, the sooner you can put that pain in the past where it belongs." Graves consoles the young man, gently moving his thumb across the cuts, healing them instantly with magic.

Credence stares at his hands in shock. With an earnest, trustworthy expression on his face, Graves reaches into his pocket, producing a chain bearing the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. He holds the symbol in the air between them as if contemplating something.

"I want you to have this, Credence. I would trust very few with it-" He begins stepping closer to Credence, placing the chain around Credence's neck.

"Very few." He whispers, the chain now firmly placed around Credence's neck.

"...But you-you're different." Graves continues, face close, his hands on either side of Credence's neck, drawing him in, his speech quiet, intimate as if speaking to a lover.

Credence looks unsure at the words, his nervous expression telling, a look of longing on his face.

Graves rests one of his hands on Credence's heart, covering the pendant.

"Now, when you find the child , touch this symbol and I will know, and I will come to you." Graves explains moving even closer to Credence, his face inches from the boy's neck.

"Do this and you will be honoured among Wizards forever." His voice is quiet, meant only for the young man before him.

Graves suddenly pulls Credence into a hug, a hand still firmly clamped on the back of Credence's neck. The image of the two seeming more controlling than affectionate to an outside observer. Credence closes his eyes and relaxes slightly in the older man's embrace.

Slowly Graves backs away, stroking Credence's neck. Credence remains still, savouring the touch of another human being who isn't attempting to inflict pain upon his person, eyes closed.

"The child is dying, Credence. Time is running out." Once the final words are spoken Graves abruptly leaves, arms dropping to his sides, striding down the alleyway before Disapparating with a pop.

* * *

Once more free of the case, Hermione takes a deep breath of fresh air as she looks out over the city from a rooftop. The sun is just beginning to set, the pigeon coup behind her filled with the sounds of preening birds.

Newt steps out beside her, a little closer to the edge, steady as he steps onto the ledge, blue eyes taking in the immense city scape before him.

Hermione watches him from the corner of her eyes, his hair being tousled gently by the wind, highlighted with fiery copper streaks as the last light of day makes way for the night that's sure to come. The freckles of his skin standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin, blue eyes shining as he turns to her, catching her staring, a friendly, inviting smile pulling at his lips.

 _Beautiful..._ Hermione thinks, admiring the picture he makes as though it's a priceless piece of art.

Behind them in the small wooden shack containing the pigeons Jacob and Queenie converse.

"Your grandfather kept pigeons? Mine bred owls. I used to love feeding 'em." Queenie tells the enamoured Jacob. Their soft voices filling the air around them.

Hermione and Tina step onto the ledge on either side of Newt at the same time. Hermione reaching out to grip his upper arm in fear as her eyes take in the ground far below them. Though she had gotten over much of her fear of heights a few years ago, she believed that no one was entirely comfortable when faced with staggering heights and the realization of how easily one could plummet to their death with one wrong move.

"Graves always insisted the disturbances were caused by a Beast. We need to catch all your creatures so he can't keep using them as a scapegoat." Tina begins eyes falling on the pair standing close together, Hermione's fingers clutching Newts shirt tight in hand.

 _Graves..._ The name runs through her mind. Curiosity roused. _How has nobody noticed that Percival Graves is not the man he claims to be?_

 _I shouldn't..._ Hermione thinks biting her lip, unsure if she should voice her concerns.

 _None of my information said just who Grindelwald was masquerading as at this time-_ She recalls, brows furrowing in thought. If she voiced her concerns now and Graves was indeed Grindelwald in disguise as she was beginning to think would anything change? Could her concerns, if voiced, be the catalyst for a shift in history? ... or... would they be unimportant in the grand scheme of things?

 _You're a fugitive once more._ Her mind argues.

"There's only one still missing. Dougal, my Demiguise." Hermione barely hears Newt's reply, her mind spinning.

 _You're trapped. Stuck in this time period with no way home and now a fugitive on foreign soil. Not to mention you've assaulted a very high level MACUSA employee and one other. And of course you had to steal their wands!_ She thinks, her mental dilemma unnoticed by the pair.

"Douga-" Tina begins before being cut of by Hermione as she shakes herself from her thoughts, voice filling the air.

"Tina." Hermione begins clearing her throat, mind made up, staring at the woman on the other side of Newt. "Speaking of Graves, You've known him the longest, have you noticed anything off about him lately?" She questions quietly.

Tina's brows furrow in question, lips pursing in thought. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, the words refusing to leave her lips. Her own suspicions clear.

"So is he the type of man that would readily condemn someone to death, like he did today? Newt and I- fine, a bit of an extreme sentence without proof of probable cause or any sort of proper evidence aside from the Obscurus encased in Newt's case and your word regarding his escaped creatures. More to the point, we did draw our wands in front of the highest ranking members of MACUSA and the assembled dignitaries which didn't exactly paint us in the most innocent light." A pause, both Newt and Tina are watching her now, expressions thoughtful.

"But you- you hadn't even met either of us until the day before. You had nothing to do with Newt's case or the incident in the Pentagram Office. You never drew your wand, you didn't attempt to escape imprisonment-True- you ran into a spot of trouble when we snuck out but you took us in as soon as you possibly could- I've heard Graves is shrewd and single minded, but 'not a bad guy'. Does his sentencing really seem in character for him? He didn't even inform Madame Picquery of our fates before sending the both of you to your deaths. Are you sure that man is Percival Graves? Are those truly the actions of the man you've come to know?"

Silence surrounds them as she finishes her line of questioning.

Tina's face is shocked and somewhat fearful, the pieces of the puzzle, the odd behaviour she had been beginning to notice finally clicking into place.

 _That's it._ Hermione thinks as she follows the expressions that play across Tina's face. The intelligent if not somewhat naive woman coming to terms with the information presented to her.

Suddenly Newt turns to Tina. Startling Hermione, causing her to grip his shirt tightly once more as she breaths deeply in an attempt to centre herself.

"Do you know of any other Legilimens aside from Queenie?" Newt asks, voice carrying across the rooftop, Jacob and Queenie's conversation dropping as they peek out of the shed.

Queenie as if summoned by her name walks towards the trio standing on the edge, Jacob following close behind.

"It's not a skill most folks like to boast about." Queenie shares from behind them, drawing the trio's attention to her approaching figure.

Hermione turns, legs shaking a bit as she attempts descend from the ledge, seeking more sturdy ground to continue this conversation. Jacob noting Hermione's troubles rushes to her side offering her an arm, earning him a brilliant, adoring smile from Queenie.

Hermione gives the man a small smile in thanks, despite the fact he only has eyes for the charming Ms. Goldstein, sucking a deep breath of air into her lungs as she plants herself firmly on the roof with the help of Jacob. Jacob moves back between Queenie and Hermione just as Newt and Tina descend. The five of them standing in a shape loosely resembling a circle.

Newt looks to Hermione as if urging her to speak, drawing the attention of the remaining trio. Hermione's eyes drop to ground, panic spiking within her as Queenie's eyes fall on her, the names of potions ingredients playing on a loop in her head. Unnoticed by her Queenie's expression drops, a look of hurt flitting across her expression, reading Hermione's emotional response to her presence clearly.

Hermione clears her throat, eyes still firmly attached to the ground.

"He read my mind-" She explains, shifting her weight slightly, somewhat uncomfortable with their attention directed at her.

"How can you be sure?" Tina asks, mildly suspicious but not completely writing Hermione's statement off.

"He knew my name- my full name." Hermione explains as though the answer should be more than enough.

"Hermione-" Newt begins. His expression somewhat exasperated. Both of them knowing full well that her explanation isn't anywhere near enough to convince the other three of the validity of her claim.

"So?" Tina begins, brows furrowed, annoyance flooding her features. "He would have had access to your records-It-" She says before being abruptly cut off by Hermione.

"I have no records." Hermione exclaims, voice raising an octave, a frustrated sigh escaping from her lips. "I don't exist. No records pertaining to my birth, schooling, family, nothing! There's nothing for him to have found! There's no way he could have known a thing about me! Especially my name!" She argues, providing the group with more information than she originally intended.

Silence fills the air following her words. Hermione raises her gaze, glancing to each of them in turn. Newt is clearly unsurprised, his own gaze soft as he meets her eyes. Jacob looks confused, though not all that concerned. Queenie looks thoughtful, her head tilted slightly as her eyes peruse Hermione's person. Tina, well Tina has a look of complete disbelief on her face.

"That's not possible!" Tina exclaims, looking to be on the verge of laughter or a mental breakdown.

"Listen we'-" Hermione begins in an attempt to direct the conversation away from her and back the issue of Percival Graves and what their next actions should be.

"Queenie-" Tina begins, all eyes falling on the woman in question as Tina addresses her sister. "Is she telling the truth?" She demands, apparently unwilling to let this go.

"Teenie-" The beautiful young woman begins, face unsure, reluctant to go digging around in someone's head for one of the first times in her life.

While it certainly wasn't unusual for people to be uncomfortable in Queenie's presence once they learned of her abilities, none had ever shown the amount of fear that Hermione had just by being in her presence. The constant stream of potions ingredients doing little hinder Queenie's ability whenever Hermione's emotions would spike.

Queenie Goldstein wasn't sure she wanted to know the secrets held within the mysterious young woman's head, some mysteries were better left unknown. Queenie looks over Hermione once more, an awkward and uncomfortable silence surrounding the ragtag group, her greyish green eyes lingering on the slur carved into Hermione's exposed arm, face contorting into a look of confusion and pity. Hermione quickly covers the scar, a shakey breath escaping her lips. The raised edges of the scar pressing into the palm of her hand taking her back in time, losing herself in memory.

 _'The name's taboo! I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore- we've got to put the protection back around us- quickly- it's how they find-'_

 _Ron- Harry-_ Her breath catches at the vivid memory from their year on the run, Ron's vibrant red hair wind blown, blue eyes angry as he ranted and raved at one Harry James Potter. Remembering how one single word brought the snatchers down upon them in the blink of an eye.

"Voldemort-" The single word falls from Queenie's mouth, expression confused, Hermione flinches.

 _'Hello beautiful.' The snatcher named Scabior says, leering at a much younger Hermione, dirty and thin from her time on the run. Hermione starts, backing away from the man before the trio takes off, running from the group of Snatchers around them._

 _'Well don't hang about, snatch em' Scabior calmly states, spurring the group of snatchers into action. The trio weave between trees, running from their persuaders, spells filling the air around them, jets of light smashing into the ground around their feet and the trees providing them with a small amount of cover._

Hermione sucks in a shuddering breath of air as if trying to calm herself. Forcing herself to breathe. Queenie's eyes fall on Hermione's face, their eyes locked. The remaining three watch the silent play with baited breath.

 _Ron falls, caught and bound, a spell connecting with his form. Moments later Hermione looks around, realizing Ron's missing, their escape impossible. It's only a matter of time until the trio is captured._

 _A white flash of light shoots from Hermione's wand, connecting with Harry's face, he falls to the ground, skin bubbling as the stinging hex distorts his features, disguising his identity._

Hermione shakes her head in an attempt to psychically rid herself of the memory taking shape, eyes closing momentarily.

 _'Don't Touch her!' Ron screams racing towards Hermione and Harry, now surrounded by snatchers. One of the snatchers punches him in the stomach, he bends at the waist, a pained noise escaping his lips, his eyes on Hermione._

Tears form in the corners of Hermione's eyes as she stares straight ahead, gaze connected with Queenie. All hope of keeping her out of her mind abandoned, chin held high, shaking hands clenched at her sides.

 _The scene changes now. The forest replaced by the darkened drawing room in Malfoy Manor._

 _Hermione stands at the back of the assembled group, a snatcher holding her tight in order to prevent her escape. Harry, thankfully still disguised kneels on the floor, Bellatrix Lestrange behind him, gripping his hair, pulling his head back, looking up at Draco in with a mad grin, hopeful expression on her face._

"Lestrange..." Queenie's voice breaks the silence around them once more, brows furrowing in question.

Unknown to either women, Newt flinches at the name, mouth dropping open, eyes wide as questioning, apprehension and a sliver of fear fill his features as his gaze falls on Hermione's shaking form.

 _'Don't be shy sweetie- Come over' The mad woman urges, grabbing Draco's hand, pulling him towards her and Harry. 'Now, If this isn't who we think it is Draco and we call him-he'll kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure.' She urges guiding the young man into a kneeling position before Harry._

Queenie's eyes widen further as she continues to drink in Hermione's memory. The memory of Hermione's fear overwhelming her senses, her own heart beating fast as the scene plays out.

' _Put the boys in the cellar!' Bellatrix orders, her voice enraged, the sword of Gryffindor clutched in hand._

 _'I'm going to have a little conversation with this one.' She continues, stepping close to Hermione, her yellow teeth bared, the unpleasant smell of her breath assaulting the young girl's nose. 'Girl to girl.' Hermione turns her head, shaking, so clearly afraid._

A tear falls down Hermione's face, Newt takes a step toward Her, hand outstretched before stopping as a gasp falls from her parted lips. Queenie flinches.

 _'Crucio' The mad woman hisses, wand pointed at Hermione._

 _Hermione drops to the ground, back arched, body contorting painfully as the torture curse sets her nerve endings ablaze with pain._

 _'Crucio' Screams tear from the young girls mouth, filling the room._

Hermione's breathing is erratic now, hand on her throat as she struggles to breathe, fear gripping her as though she was once more left alone with Bellatrix Lestrange in the drawing room, her free arm hugging her waist tight.

"Oh, Honey-" Queenie intones her eyes falling on Hermione's fearful, tear filled eyes.

"Queenie, Please don't." Hermione begs the young woman, both of their faces paling as the memory continues, neither woman able to escape.

 _'That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts, how did you get it?" The woman begins, straddling Hermione, now tired of the repeated use of the torture spell._

 _Opting to use a more personal touch in her questioning, the older woman presses Hermione's body into the cold marble floor. Hot breath burning against the skin of her ear, Bellatrix's angered voice, quiet but full of emotion as she continues to question the woman about the sword found in the trio's possession. Teeth biting into Hermione's skin, as if she were more Beast than Witch._

Tina looks between Queenie and Hermione, a look of worry on her face as she notices their expressions. Regretting her request to have Queenie dive into the mysterious young woman's thoughts. Fearful of what her sister was in fact seeing there.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. People are easiest to read when they're hurting." Queenie replies, truly meaning her words, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

 _Bellatrix pushes Hermione's head to the side, holding her firmly in place as she begins to carve into her arm. Hermione's screams fill the room, tears falling down her face. The young girl's voice echoing in the spacious room, her screams deafening._

 _'It's a copy! It's a-' Hermione's frantic voice shouts, gasping for air as the woman continues to carve into her skin with a steady hand._

"Oh-" The sound falls from Queenie's mouth, a shaking, pale hand reaching up to cover her mouth, eyes wide.

Hermione turns, arms tucked firmly around her middle as she bends at the waist, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the roof below.

 _Bellatrix Lestrange questions a Goblin a little ways away from the young girl lying prone on the floor, head to the side, tears falling in steady streams down her face, laboured breaths shaking her small frame. Both arms are stretched out, the young girls tear filled eyes focused on the bleeding word now carved into her skin._

 _Mudblood. To these people that's all she would ever be. Her entire existence summed up in one simple word, eight characters long._

Newt rushes to Hermione, a hand falling to her back, rubbing small soothing circles into her cloth covered skin.

Tina and Jacob stand as if frozen, shocked and curious expressions filling their faces as they look between Queenie and Hermione.

With a shaking hand Queenie wipes the tears from her eyes, stepping forward as if to lend some sort of comfort to the hunched woman, small, pained noises filling the air around them.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." Queenie says, voice wavering, a sad look of understanding filling her face.

Silence falls over the group once more, punctuated only by the whimpers and sound of Hermione gasping for air, Newt's hand moving in repetitive, comforting circles, head bent low, a steady stream of soft, comforting words falling from his lips, expression worried.

 _'Mudblood'_ The taunting voice of Bellatrix Lestrange fills Hermione's mind once more, eyes falling to her scar, gritting her teeth.

Mourning the loss of her childhood, her family, her friends... All lost thanks to a madman and his fanatics. Made possible thanks to the Wizarding world's backward and outdated beliefs regarding blood.

She closes her eyes, breathing deep, hand over her chest feeling how her heartbeat begins to slow. She straightens her back, Newt's hand stilling but maintaining their contact. She looks over her shoulder, brown eyes shooting open as they land on Newt's concerned face. Time seems to freeze. Brown eyes meeting blue, chin set, gaze steady.

"To hell with the timeline." She says quietly with conviction, eyes locked on Newt, her voice just barely above a whisper, carried by the wind. Her quiet words heard by all those present.

Her declaration is met with confused expressions from Tina and Jacob. Queenie's still watery eyes wide and curious, clearly intrigued and somewhat afraid.

A shuddering breath falls from Newt's lips, his gaze unwavering, focused solely on the time-travelling woman before him. A spark of excitement and anticipation filling his eyes as the words circle in his head.

In that moment he realized the woman standing before him was so much more than she seemed. He couldn't wait to unravel the mystery that was Hermione Granger; a time traveller, a witch, and so much more. The depths of her personality and being, boundless and unexplored, the limits of her power unknown, she'd been through hell and back, death following her every step and yet she lived. Here she stood, a testament to her strength. So very strong and so very proud. Though they were little more than strangers, in that moment there was one thing Newt believed with all his being...

Once this wild woman before him made a decision, nothing, not even death himself would stand in her way. She was a force of nature, the eye of the storm and he could think of nothing he had ever wanted more than to be swept up in her waves.

* * *

 **Author Note:** Mystic707 : I know, I wish the chapters could go on forever but I feel like cramming too much information in there would be a bit overwhelming. I think she may effect the past more yet... perhaps not too much for the remainder of the movie but afterwards... I don't think Hermione can sit on her hands forever so to speak. Graves is pissed, that's for sure and I think Hermione may have attracted too much of Graves attention to simply live out her days in the past with ease. Girl just doesn't know how to keep a low profile.

Crimson-Midnight-Moon : Ahaha right?! I'm pretty sure I was cackling while writing that. She basically just punched pre-Voldemort in the face... Mind you she doesn't quite realize that yet.

Ndavis77: I told you guys I keep slipping Doctor Who references in ;P

lieutenantcolin: hmmm it seems like he did... though that's not to say he necessarily found anything important inside or was able to explore its depths too much but i'd say it was likely that Graves was the one to check her bag and even if he doesn't suspect she's from the future, he most certainly believes there is something suspicious and quite irritating about Hermione.

BlackArtWhiteVoice: Feel free to say it everytime ;P

Nibaloo: Hmmm i'd say ten's a close second in my heart but I can't help but love Eleven. I think he may always be my personal favourite. Hmmmm i'm not sure how i'd feel if they gave Eddie the role of the Doctor. I doubt they can if he's going to be busy with Fantastic Beats for the next few years but even if they could i'd worry he'd be to similar to the 11th Doctor. If you prefer Scanger use it! I'm by no means the authority on ship names! Everyone should totally use whatever ship name they prefer I was just making conversation :)

Cestrenes97: Ahaha i'm working towards it! I'm a little afraid to reach the end of the movie though honestly and to go completely off my own imagination... totally worried i'm going to write myself into a corner once completely left to my own devices... mind you i'm still going to try. I know exactly how I want to final chapter to go and well that isn't for quite a few years yet in Hermione's timeline so I need to work my way there.

CHOCHON: The Essence of Dittany won't but who knows what else he found in that bag ;)

Thorchick1993: I had to write it... Mostly because when I checked the Hermione/Newt tag there just weren't any other stories... well there's six stories (mine included) in the tag atm... but all of them are just beginning and I wanted Hermione and Newt now! So I decided to give this writing thing a try. I'll read pretty much any Hermione pairing and their are some real amazing ones but no other character really feels like such a perfect fit for Hermione... when I saw the movie it just clicked in my head. I wanted this pairing bad!


	14. The Occamy and the Teapot

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Ahh sorry guys this chapter's mostly filler and a bit shorter, just needed to address what happens before they get back into Newt's case. I'm thinking some things need to be aired and addressed between the group before the films events come to an end and newt's case seems like the best place to have this conversation... but we had to get this group in there first and collect the last of Newts creatures.

Anyways I know this chapter may be a bit boring but look forward to what's coming next! Hopefully I won't disappoint! As always thank you for the reviews, I really do love reading them! Personal responses are at the bottom!

As always I can't thank The Queen of Thornes enough for continuing to edit this mess and adding more depth to some scenes... Seriously without The Queen of Thornes there would probably be quite a few confusing scenes... not to mention spelling and grammar mistakes.

Oh and i'm glad the normal chapter length is good! I don't like super short chapters either... find it irritating but i've heard some people aren't the biggest fan of lengthier chapters either so I just thought i'd see what you all thought!

Ah! Also I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! We probably won't get the next chapter out until the new year so I also hope you all have an amazing New Years eve as well! Right let's get onto the story!

* * *

In the end, Tina decided to let it go. Though she wasn't entirely convinced of what Hermione was saying in regards to Graves, she couldn't bring herself to ask Queenie what she saw in Hermione's mind. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what was hiding in the mysterious woman's mind and she had no wish to further upset Queenie.

After debating it for a bit, the motley group decided that the best course of action would be to locate the last of Newt's escaped creatures, no matter if Percival Graves was not the man he claimed to be. If nothing else, perhaps they'd be able to convince Madame Picquery of their innocence.

Decision made, the mystery of Hermione and Graves was pushed to the back of their minds for the time being and the group set off in search of Dougal, Newt's Demiguise. The invisible creature and the last of the Hufflepuff's creatures roaming wild in New York City.

However, to find the missing Demiguise, they needed information, and the only way to get said information, was through one of Tina's old informants from her days of an Auror. Gnarlak, a Goblin who traded in Magical Creatures.

* * *

 _Of course, Gnarlak's located in the seedy underbelly of Wizarding New York._ Hermione thinks, mentally comparing it to her few jaunts through Knockturn Alley, as she and the ragtag group follow Tina down a back alley covered in bins, crates and discarded objects.

Tina efficiently locates a set of steps leading to a basement apartment and motions the group down. The steps appear to lead to a dead end and Hermione's eyes fall on a bricked over doorway, a poster of a simpering debutante in an evening dress, gazing at herself in a mirror, covering the bricks.

Tina and Queenie stand in front of the poster. They turn to one another and in unison and raise their wands. As they do so, their work clothes transform into stunning flapper party dresses.

Tina looks down at herself, smoothing her hands over the front of her black dress as Queenie gazes at Jacob, a cheeky smile on her face before turning to Hermione wand raised. Hermione flinches hand reaching for her wand before relaxing.

 _There's no danger here._ A small friendly smile fills Queenies face as she casts her spell, transforming Hermione's clothes into an outfit more appropriate for the time-period and their task at hand.

She feels the magic tugging at her hair, pulling it from where it hangs around her face, securing her riotous curls on either side, Poppy clacking in protest. Her ruined blouse and trousers wash away as if doused in water, a wine-red flapper style party dress with a sheer overlay decorated with gold accents, in their place. The red fabric hugs her body tightly, the hem ending just above her knees, the neckline modest with thick straps, the back, dipping low, the fabric hanging slightly from her body.

"Perfect, for a Lion." Queenie says with a soft smile, their trip down memory lane causing the two women to grow somewhat closer, the blonde stowing her wand once more.

Queenie had refused to tell the others what she saw in her trip through Hermione's memories. Even when Teenie questioned her she refused to budge, as she knew Hermione's story wasn't hers to tell. A moment of understanding passed between the two shaken women on that rooftop overlooking the city as dusk fell, Queenie realising in that moment she'd found a friend for life in the mysterious Hermione Granger.

 _Ah- it appears she gleamed a little more from my memories than I originally thought._ Hermione muses as she runs her fingers across the raised, beaded overlay of the dress, a small smile of thanks stretching her lips as her eyes meet Queenie's.

Hermione watches as Queenie and Tina's eyes sweep over her person, the tail end of Dolohov's cursed scar peeking out above the modest neckline of the dress, the slur carved into her arm proudly on display, various other scars both large and small, littering her skin with silvery marks. Queenie's eyes land on a bite mark, the indentations made by human teeth so very clear where her neck and collarbone meet. Queenie's eyes soften, her mouth pulling into a sad little frown before shaking her head.

Hermione straightens her back, smoothing her hands along her dress, chin held high. She's well aware that most of her scars are now on display but she refuses to let them affect her too much. She looks to Newt, a small sliver of insecurity flitting across her expression as their eyes meet.

"Stunning." Newts eyes confirming the single statement, a curious gaze on his face as he takes in her appearance. An attractive blush covering his cheeks.

He leans in close, his scent overwhelming her once more.

 _Parchment, Grass and why can't I put a name to that final smell._ Hermione questions, brows furrowing in thought and she's transported back to that first day of Potions in her Sixth Year, when Slughorn brewed Amortentia to show the NEWT level class.

His warm breath on her skin sends a shiver up her spine.

"Gryffindor colours. Why am I not surprised?" He breathes, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Hermione's skin grows hot, her cheeks flushing as her heart thumps wildly against her chest. Hermione looks away with one final smile as Tina steps towards the poster and slowly raises her hand. As she does so, the eyes of the debutante move upward, following her every move. Tina knocks slowly on the door four times.

From the corner of her eye Hermione watches as Newt magics himself a small bow tie, Jacob looking on jealously. A small giggle escapes Hermione's lips at Jacob's expression, catching both men's attention as she raises her wand, giving Jacob the same treatment. The man smiles at her in thanks.

The hatch opens: the painted eyes of the debutante whip back to reveal the gaze of a suspicious guard.

* * *

According to Tina, The Blind Pig is a seedy, speakeasy for the down-and-out of New York's magical community. Every Witch and Wizard criminal in New York is here, their wanted posters hanging proudly on the walls. Hermione's eyes fall on the wanted poster of Gellert Grindelwald, her arm twined with Queenie's as the two women enter. His charges listed for all to see.

 _'wanted for No-maj slaying in Europe.'_

Her own wanted poster springs to mind, the Propaganda Voldemort's Ministry spread during the Second War forever printed on her mind. 'Undesirable No. 2' She thinks with a small grin. The whole Wizarding World knew her then… and now, she's no one again and she's not sure which one she prefers.

Queenie gives her a curious look, clearly having caught a glimpse of her mind. Hermione gives the curious woman a small smile, a silent promise to explain later. A glamourous Goblin jazz singer croons on a stage full of Goblin musicians, smoky images wafting from her wand to illustrate her lyrics, her voice filling the air.

Even in the 20's America still treats Goblins better than Britain, Hermione thinks with a scowl

 _"The Phoenix cried fat tears of pearl_

 _When the dragon snapped up his best girl,_

 _And the Billywig forgot to twirl_

 _When his sweetheart left him cold,_

 _And the Unicorn done lost his horn,_

 _And the Hippogriff feels all forlorn,_

 _'Cause their lady loves have upped and gawn,_

 _Or that's what i've been told-"_

The group separates, Jacob stands at the seemingly unmanned bar, waiting to be served. A thin bottle of brown liquid zooms towards him. Noticing Jacob's struggle, Queenie untangles her arm from Hermione's with a smile before approaching the clearly overwhelmed man at the bar, leaving Hermione with Newt and Tina, the three grab a table, an awkward silence filling the air around them. Newt studies the room as Hermione's eyes fall on Tina.

"I've arrested half of the people in here." Tina shares, looking around.

"You can tell me to mind my own business... but I saw something in that death potion back there. I saw you- hugging- that Second Salem boy." Newt falteringly questions.

 _Death potion..._ The thought rolls around in Hermione's mind as her gaze passes back and forth between the chatting pair, absorbing as much information as possible.

"His name's Credence. His mother beats him. She beats all those kids she's adopted, but she seems to hate him the most."

"And she was the No-Maj you attacked?" Newt asks, understanding filling his face as he realizes something.

"That's how I lost my job. I went for her in front of a meeting of her crazy followers- they all had to be Obliviated. It was a big scandal." Tina looks at the table, seemingly lost in thought.

"It's him." Queenie whispers, signalling the trio from across the room.

Gnarlak emerges from the depths of the speakeasy. Hermione's eyes case the man as he walks towards them, he's smoking a cigar and is smartly dressed for a Goblin, he has a sly, smooth demeanour that reminds her of a Mafia boss from one of those old movies Harry was so fond of. He eyes the trio at the table as he approaches.

 _"Yes, love has set the beasts astir,_

 _The dang'rous and the meek concur,_

 _It's ruffled feathers, fleece, and fur,_

 _Cause love drives all of us wild."_

The Jazz singer croons from the stage, her breathy voice clear over the noise of the room, wisps of magic filling the air.

Gnarlak sits himself at the end of their table, an air of confidence and dangerous control dances about his person. A house-elf hastily brings him a drink.

 _I feel as though we're about to sell our souls to the devil._ Hermione thinks as his deep voice fills the air.

"So-you're the guy with the case full of monsters, huh?" Gnarlak begins.

"News travels fast. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me if there have been any sightings. Tracks. That sort-" Newt begins, eager for the information the Goblin may hold before he's cut off by Gnarlak, holding up a single disfigured hand.

Gnarlak turns his unsettling black eyes on Hermione, taking in her appearance, a wicked and vicious smile curving his lips, sharp pointed teeth on display.

"And- who hasn't heard of the woman who took on Percival Graves- Word on the street is that you decked him good before knocking him unconscious and pocketing his wand. We all know how you Wizards feel about those silly wands of yours." He says with a short laugh, throwing his drink back as another house-elf approaches and hands him a document to sign.

"You stole his wand!?" Tina nearly shouts, her voice shrill as she stares at Hermione in disbelief.

 _Mmm I suppose I forgot to mention that bit._ A small shrug shifts her body, eyes still focused on the Goblin sitting at their table, refusing to meet Newt or Tina's eyes.

"You certainly know how to make a name for yourself girlie, you got a big price on your head, even bigger than Mr. Scamander here. Why should I help you instead of turnin' you both in?" The house-elf scurries off, holding the now signed document.

"I take it I'll have to make it worth your while?" Newt asks

"Hmm- let's consider it a cover charge." Gnarlak says taking a heavy drag of his cigar, the smoke billowing from his mouth, watching Hermione from the corner of his eye.

Hermione's brows furrow in thought as Newt pulls a couple of Galleons and slides them across the table towards Gnarlak, who barely looks up.

"Huh- MACUSA's offerin' more'n that." The Goblin says clearly unimpressed.

There's a beat, Newt reaches into his pocket but his actions are stilled as Hermione lays a hand on his cloth covered arm, their eyes meeting. She shakes her head slightly before turning to the intrigued Gnarlak.

"And just how much more are they offering?" Hermione asks, an eyebrow raised in question.

"More'n you could possibly have girlie." He answers, sharp teeth glinting in the light.

"A number, Gnarlak." She pushes, voice hard, an odd feeling tickling her senses, alerting her that something wasn't quite right.

The Goblin laughs, his head thrown back, a vicious look on his face as his bottomless black eyes settle on her once more. Tina grabs her arm as if urging her to stop but Hermione shrugs her off, gaze unwavering.

"Just you or the set?" Gnarlak's expression is amused now, the vicious smile curving his lips ever present.

 _He's stalling._ She realizes, gaze darting about the room.

"We sh-" Hermione begins before being cut off by Gnarlak, his gaze suddenly on Newt.

Hermione follows his line of sight, eyes wide as they fall on Pickett who's peeking out from Newt's pocket.

"-wait a minute-that's a Bowtruckle, right?" Pickett quickly retreats, Newt placing a hand protectively over his pocket.

"No." Newts answer is quick, panicked.

"Ah, come on, that's a Bowtruckle- they pick locks- am I right?"

"You're not having him." Newt says firmly, hand still held protectively in place.

"Well, good luck gettin' back alive, Mr. Scamander, Girlie, what with the whole of MACUSA on your back." Gnarlak gets up and walks away.

"All right." Newt says, agony clear in his voice.

"Newt don-" Hermione protests, the words dying on her lips as he places a hand on her arm, warmth flaring in its place, her mind going blank.

 _That's cheap._ Hermione thinks, anger spiking as her senses return once more as Newt removes his hand, extracting Pickett from his pocket.

Pickett clings to Newt's hands, madly clicking and whining. Tears collect in the corners of Hermione's eyes, Poppy clicking quietly in her ear, still hidden in her hair and out of sight.

"Pickett..." He says as he slowly hands the squirming creature over to Gnarlak.

Pickett reaches his little arms forward, imploring Newt to take him back. Newt can't look at him and Hermione feels that small spike of anger grow, overwhelming her senses as she takes in Newt's defeated form and the desperate cries of the little Bowtruckle. Her wand slides into her hand, fingers clutching the wood tight in her grip, tear filled eyes full of anger as the urge to fight fills her senses once more.

"Ah yeah..." Gnarlak says looking at the struggling Bowtruckle in his hands.

Hermione moves to stand, leaning forward as if to strike but Tina stops her, her grip far stronger than before, holding her in place.

"Somthin' invisible's been wreaken' havoc around Fifth Avenue. You may wanna check out Macy's department store. Might help with what you're looking for." The Goblin supplies, eyes falling on Newt, a cruel imitation of a smile on his face.

"Dougal..." The name falls quietly from Newts lips.

Hermione struggles against Tina, not entirely sure which of the men before her she wishes to hex more.

"Right, one last thing. Graves, you mentioned him before- I was wondering what you knew of his background." Newt questions, a pause as silence falls over the group.

"You ask too many questions, Mr. Scamander. That can get you killed."

 _Does he know who the man claiming to be Graves really is?_ Hermione thinks, her movements stilled, brows furrowed in thought.

"MACUSA ARE COMING" A house-elf suddenly yells from across the room before Disapparating, the crate of bottles in his arms tumbling to ground, the sound of glass shattering filling the air as other customers rush to do the same.

"You tipped them off!" Tina accuses the Goblin, getting to her feet quickly, releasing Hermione's arm.

Gnarlak stares at them, chuckling menacingly, Hermione's head whips about the room, wand raised as the wanted posters on the walls update to show the trios faces.

 _Well this feels familiar._

Jacob saunters towards Gnarlak."Sorry, Mr. Gnarlak-" he begins, before punching the smug little Goblin right in face, knocking him backward.

Queenie looks delighted, a sharp laugh escapes Hermione's lips, finding it difficult to restrain herself from cheering the man on. Her anger being pushed to the back of her mind for the time being.

"-reminds me of my foreman!" Hermione laughs openly now at Jacob's smart words, earning herself an amused look from both Jacob and Queenie. Tina looks at the trio, irritation clear on her face.

Turning her wand on the downed Goblin Hermione sends an Incarcerous spell from her wand, a viscous smile curving her lips as the traitorous rat is bound and gagged.

 _Let the Aurors have him._ She thinks with no small amount of glee, as their eyes meet. A promise of pain filling Gnarlak's eyes as retribution for her actions.

Throughout the bar, various customers are being apprehended by the Aurors'. Newt scrambles about on the floor looking for Pickett. Around him, people are running, diving away from the Aurors', trying to escape the bar. Newt finally finds Pickett on a table leg, grabs him, and runs toward the foursome now standing at the bar.

Jacob grabs two shots of a drink called Gigglewater passing one off to the still laughing Hermione, Queenie watching the pair in amusement, a small indulgent smile on her face as Tina shoots the three of them disbelieving and exasperated looks over her shoulder as she takes in the room before her, wand at the ready. Hermione and Jacob toss the shots back, giggling uproariously as Newt grabs their elbows and the group Disapparates away.

* * *

On the second floor of the Second Salem Church, in a bleak bedroom clearly belonging to a young girl, Credence searches under the single bed.

The room is modestly furnished, filled only with a single bed, an oil lamp, a sampler on the wall depicting An Alphabet of Sin and a few dolls lining the shelves. Two dolls in particular stand out, a doll with a little noose around its neck and another tied to a stake.

Credence pulls his thin frame further under the bed, searching among the boxes and objects hidden there, then suddenly he stops, staring...

Unbeknownst to him someone has heard his frantic search and is slowly approaching.

The young man stares at the toy wand in his hands, unable to draw his eyes from it.

"Whatchoo doin', Credence?" The young girl asks after quietly entering the room.

Credence bangs his head on the bed in his haste to get out. He emerges, dusty and scared. Relief fills his face as he takes in the young girl before him. The feeling is not mutual, the young girl is terrified, her wide eyes on the wand in his hand.

"Where'd you get this?" Credence asks holding the toy wand up in the air.

"Give it back, Credence. It's just a toy!" She begins in a frightened whisper.

The door bangs open, their mother enters, her gaze travelling from the young girl to Credence and the toy wand, her expression furious.

"What is this?" She demands, furious gaze boring into the young man still on the floor.

* * *

Credence, his mother and young girl stand on the landing of the second floor. The older woman looks at Credence, her face full of loathing as she snaps the toy wand in two. The young girl cowers in the background as Credence begins to remove his belt. The woman holds out her hand and takes the strap of leather.

"Ma..." Credence begins, his tone pleading.

"I am not your ma! Your mother was a wicked, unnatural woman!" She shouts.

"It was mine." Confesses the young girl as she forces her way between the two.

"Modesty-" The woman begins, looking down at the young girl.

Suddenly- the belt is whipped out of the woman's hands by supernatural means, falling in a far corner, well out of reach. The woman looks at her hand, a bleeding cut stains her skin, the force with which the belt was torn from her hand cutting into the tender flesh of her palm.

"What is this?" The woman asks clearly frightened but doing her best to cover it, her stunned gaze looking between Modesty and Credence.

The young girl, Modesty, stares at the woman defiantly. Credence is crouched behind the young girl, hugging his knees and shaking.

The older woman moves slowly to retrieve the belt but before she can reach it slithers away as if pulled by an invisible string. She backs away, fear welling in her eyes as she turns slowly back to the children.

Suddenly an almighty force explodes into her. A bestial, screeching, dark mass consumes her. A bloodcurdling scream tears from her lips as the invisible force throws her backwards, striking a wooden beam before flinging her body over the balcony.

She plummets to the main floor of the church, limp form slamming against the ground with an audible thump. Her body now lifeless, head lolled to the side, unseeing eyes wide, her face bearing the same scars seen on the face of Senator Shaw.

The dark force tears through the church, upending the table and destroying everything in sight.

* * *

"Could the three of you settle down!" Tina chastises in a raised whisper, her eyes on Hermione, Jacob and Queenie.

"I can't believe you just came right up and punched him in the face!" Hermione giggles from her spot beside Jacob, smacking his arm playfully.

"Says the woman who punched Graves in the face-" Queenie laughs her arm tucked into Jacob's, a delicate hand covering her mouth, eyes filled with mirth.

"That reminds me-" Tina begins turning fully to face the giggling trio. "Are you insane?" The irate woman questions, her voice raising once more.

With an innocent and apologetic look Jacob and Queenie break off from the group, approaching a glamorously decorated department store window.

"You physically assaulted a high level MACUSA employee and stole his wand! What in the world were you-" Tina continues, hands on her hips, gaze hard and most definitely not amused by the other woman's actions as she stares at Hermione.

Hermione's laughter quiets now, her gaze falling on Jacob and Queenie's still forms.

"Two wands actually-" Hermione replies offhandedly as she brushes past the irate woman, joining Newt as he hurries to Jacob and Queenie's side, the group watches as a bag hovers mid-air and floats off into the store.

"T-Two! Two!" Tina exclaims behind the foursome, clearly outraged, unaware of the scene playing out before their eyes.

* * *

The group enter the well-presented department store decorated for Christmas, with aisles of expensive jewellery, shoes, hats and perfume. The place is shut down for the night, all the lights are off, no noises can be heard but their steady breathing and an irritated huff from the still angry Tina.

The handbag floats down the central aisle, accompanied by small grunting noises.

The group quickly tiptoe through the store, coming to hide behind a large plastic Christmas display. They eye-up the floating handbag.

"So Demiguise are fundamentally peaceful, but they can give a nasty nip if provoked." Newt explains in a whisper.

The Demiguise itself appears- a silver-haired orangutan-like creature with a curious, wizened face. Hermione watches with a soft, amused smile as the Demiguise clambers over a display to reach a box of sweets.

"You three... head that way." Newt directs with a nod of his head, talking to Queenie, Jacob and Tina.

The trio begins to move, exchanging perplexed glances before heading off, Tina looking as though she might protest.

A small roar is heard in the distance. At the noise the Demiguise looks towards the ceiling, before continuing to gather sweets, now shovelling them into it's handbag.

Hermione looks to the ceiling before sharing a look with Newt.

"Are you positive Dougal was the last of your escaped creatures?" She asks with a raised brow, her irritation with the man before her still somewhat present.

"Ah- well- I suppose- I think that may be the reason that the Demiguise is here." Newt replies, cheeks flushed, his embarrassment clear.

Hermione sighs as she and Newt move swiftly toward the Dougal, now moving away through the store.

The Demiguise turns, looking quizzically at the pair, realizing it's been spotted before moving up a set of stairs. Newt smiles at the odd little creature before the pair moves to follow.

* * *

Hermione and Newt follow the Demiguise into a huge, dark, attic space, full from floor to ceiling with shelves packed to the brim with boxes of china. The Demiguise walks along the attic in a patch of moonlight. It glances around before stopping and emptying its handbag full of confectionery.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you how exactly it's abilities work?" Newt questions, his back still turned.

"Nope"

Newt creeps up behind the Demiguise, Hermione follows close behind, her body brushing against his back, causing him to freeze as her warm breath caresses the skin of his ear.

"So what's it doing now?" She whispers.

"It's babysitting." He answers in a quiet voice.

The two watch as the Demiguise holds up one of the sweets, seeming to offer it up to someone or something. Hermione squints at the darkened ceiling, seeing the large form of the creature hidden there but unable to clearly identify it.

"Any idea who or what Dougal has decided is in need of babysitting?" Hermione asks, voice still low, their bodies close.

"This is my fault. I thought I had them all- but I must have miscounted." He answers calmly in a whisper.

Hermione muffles a snort as Tina, Queenie and Jacob quietly enter. Newt moves away from her then, calmly and kneels beside the Demiguise, who makes space for him in front of the sweets. Newt carefully places his case on the floor.

Hermione's eyes look to the ceiling once more, a shaft of light revealing the scales of the large creature, hiding in the rafters of the attic. Tina and Hermione speak at the same time.

"An Occamy?" Hermione questions voice calm.

"What's that!" Tina exclaims, horror filling her quiet voice.

Hermione watches as the face of the Occamy comes into view- it's huge, coiled round and round itself to fill the entire attic roof space. Hermione can't help herself as she approaches Newt and the Demiguise slowly, feet quiet on the floor. The Demiguise looks at her over it's shoulder before turning back to the Occamy now slowly moving toward Newt. Dougal offers up a sweet as Hermione quietly kneels on its other side. Newt remains still, looking at her from the corner of his eye, concern leaking into his features.

"Well aren't you a beauty." Hermione croons quietly, a small smile stretching her lips, eyes shining with wonder as the Occamy draws near.

"Occamies are choranaptyxic. So they-grow-to fill-available-space." Newt shares with the trio behind them, watching as the mysterious woman and the Occamy appear to have a staring contest, neither one moving, gazes steady and calm as if sizing one another up.

Newt's mouth falls open in shock as the Occamy cranes it's head towards the young woman, it's decision made, eyes falling shut, accepting the stranger kneeling before it, inviting her to pat it's head.

 _Amazing._ Hermione thinks, reaching a steady hand out towards the waiting creature, her smile growing wide, eyes softening as she strokes it's shining blue scales with gentle fingers.

Neither Newt nor Hermione notice as the Demiguise's eyes flash a brilliant blue, a sign of it having a premonition. Seconds later, still unnoticed, it's eyes turn brown once more.

Queenie moves slowly forward, staring at the Occamy. As she does so, she accidentally kicks a tiny glass bauble on the floor, which jingles as it rolls. At the sound, the Occamy rears up, screeching. Hermione's breath catches, eyes widening as Newt stands and attempts to calm the large creature.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

Jacob and Queenie stagger backward to find cover. Tina stands frozen as Hermione scrambles to her feet. The Demiguise runs away from her now, jumping into Jacob's arms.

The Occamy swoops, scooping Newt up onto its back as it violently thrashes about the attic, sending shelves flying, it's strong tail connecting with Hermione's side, sending her body flying through the air.

"Right, we need an insect, any kind of insect-and a teapot! Find a teapot!" Newt orders from his place on the thrashing Occamy.

Hermione groans from her place on the floor, boxes and shattered china surrounding her, head pounding.

Tina army-crawls through the chaos, dodging falling items, trying to find what Newt asked for.

Hermione pulls herself up into a sitting position just in time to see the wings of the Occamy crash down to the floor, narrowly missing Jacob as he stumbles around, encumbered by the Demiguise now clinging to his back.

Hermione holds her head in her hands, willing the pounding to cease as she moves onto her knees.

Jacob turns, he and the Demiguise spotting a stray cockroach on a crate. Jacob reaches his hand up to grab it, when part of the Occamy crashes down, destroying the crate and his chance.

Hermione's eyes open, falling on the crawling form of Tina who appears to be in hot pursuit of a cockroach. Hermione staggers to her feet, head whipping to the side as a scream fills the room.

The Occamy crashes into Queenie, knocking her to the floor. Jacob runs up behind her and dives forward, flat on the floor, finally laying claim to a cockroach.

"Teapot!" Tina screams, voice filling the room as she stands, a teapot clutched in hand.

At the noise, the Occamy rears its head once more, causing its tail to writhe, squashing and pinning both Hermione and Jacob- with the Demiguise- against one of the rafters.

Hermione groans once more, her entire body aching. Jacob and Tina are now at opposite ends of the room, neither daring to move, swaths of Occamy scales between them.

 _Fantastic._ Hermione thinks as the Demiguise glances shiftily up to the side and promptly vanishes. Jacob slowly turns to follow the Demiguise's gaze- the Occamy's face is inches from his own, starring with full intensity at the cockroach in his hand. Jacob barely dares to breathe.

"Roach in teapot..." Newt whispers as he peers around from behind the Occamy's head.

Hermione would laugh if not for the crushing sensation being caused by the Occamy pressed tight against her body. Jacob gulps, trying not make eye contact with the huge creature next to him.

"Shhhhh!" He says as though trying to soothe the large creature.

As if in slow motion Jacob throws the roach. It soars through the air as the Occamy's body begins to move once more, uncurling and swirling around the room.

Newt jumps from the Occamy's back, landing safely on the floor, while Queenie takes cover, placing a colander over her head.

Tina runs, teapot outstretched, hurdling the Occamy's coils as she goes. She lands on her knees in the center of the room, the cockroach falling perfectly into the teapot.

The Occamy rears up, shrinking rapidly as it rises, before diving down headfirst. Tina lowers her head, bracing herself for a hit. The Occamy races down toward the teapot and glides seamlessly inside.

Newt leaps forward and jams a lid on top of the teapot. The entire group releases a breath of relief. Hermione and Jacob struggling a bit as they assimilate to the unrestricted airflow filling their lungs.

"Choranaptyxic. They also _shrink_ to fit the available space." Newt shares with the room teapot now firmly in hand as he shoots a worried look towards Jacob and Hermione.

"Tell me the truth-was that everything that came out of the case?" Tina asks, expression pleading.

"That's everything- and that's the truth."

* * *

 **Author Note:** Crimson-Midnight-Moon: Right?! I felt like I was on the verge of an anxiety attack while writing it. I'm glad the intensity came through in the writing... I was a bit worried the mind reading scene may have been confusing. Hmmm as for how newt and Queenie feel... well Queenie's feelings are addressed a bit in this chapter and we'll see how Newt's feeling in the next chapter I believe.

The Silvernote : Hmm i'm not sure she can avoid telling them. That said I don't think Hermione quite trusts Tina in particular with the information which may or may not be an issue. Newt at least knows that she's from the future, I think Queenie is much smarter than she appeared to be in the film so I would wager she at least has some suspicions and Jacob is a muggle, Hermione doesn't have anything against muggles but because of this I think there would be little harm in sharing the secret with Jacob. Well and for a few other reasons... but Tina... I really don't think Tina has earned Hermione's trust in any way.. and that feeling may very well be mutual between both women. Not to mention I think Tina straight up rubs Hermione the wrong way much of the time.

EliexChan: Ahaha spoilers! No but seriously, yes, some of your guesses are spot on, some are partially right. No worries though I will address what is happening between them eventually, I swear. I think i'm more set in continuing the story past where the movie ends now, some of my ideas are starting to come together I believe so I'm feeling a bit more confident and their relationship will be explored more in depth for sure. Graves is pissssed! With a capital P!

Ndavis77: Huh I didn't even realize I referenced Doctor Who there. That special is amazing though btw! That scene in particular was a defining moment for ten's run I think. It really showed the darker side of Ten's personality and Tenant pulled it off perfectly. One of my all time favourite Ten moments... and one of my favourite specials from his run. Honestly i'm not entirely positive how her actions are going to affect the timeline yet either. Haven't given it too much thought. Yet. Ahaha you might very well be reading it forever if all goes well and i'm able to map out an epic the way I want to.

CalmDisposition: Hmmm to be fair Graves is already slipping quite a bit by this point in the film... that said though perhaps Hermione's actions will further push him over the edge... Also thank-you for your kind words, seriously. I'm glad you're liking the story so far!

Aimee: Mmmm I believe Hermione is quite irritated with Tina. I think the reason her irritation hasn't really been voiced yet is because there just hasn't really been time. She's been go, go, go. Falling through time, punching Graves, running around with Newt. Tina is probably the character she's spent the least amount of time around and more to the point they've never been alone together (If i'm remembering correctly) or even had a proper conversation without one of the other characters acting a a buffer. Don't worry though I will be addressing some of her thoughts and feelings in regards to Tina in the next chapter (not just because of your review but mostly because I was already planning to), Tina asking Queenie to dig through her thoughts was definitely the last straw between the two women if that makes sense... like that's her breaking point. I think until that point she found the woman fairly irritating and a bit too straight laced but she also empathized with her slightly because she reminded Hermione of her younger self a bit. That's not to say she approved of Tina's actions at all really but she could somewhat see where she was coming from.

Oh! Also Newt will be finding out a bit in the next chapter but not every single thing. I imagine she'll share everything with him at some point but not quite yet. Ahah I got your second review as well. No worries I saw the first one! I just respond to any of the more specific reviews in the following chapter all at once. And no no! Feel free to share your thoughts, you aren't going to hurt my feelings, often you guys bring up things I haven't thought of or help me to better write the following chapters so I love reading them all! Agreed didn't get much chemistry between Newt and Tina in the film, i'm assuming it will be better addressed in the next film. Oh god I don't want to deal with a love triangle at all which is why I keep glossing over any scene between Newt and Tina or just taking it out completely unless the other three are present. In conclusion (sorry I rambled a lot) I definitely don't think Tina and Hermione will be becoming good friends anytime soon (read as ever probably) I think your opinion of how Hermione feels is spot on in all honesty and I may actually add a few of the specific points you brought up in your review in the next chapter when they finally have something of a confrontation if that's alright with you. Let me know if it isn't! Anyways feel free to let me know your opinions anytime!


	15. Danger

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Phew! Finally got it up! Sorry about the wait you guys I had a wee bit of trouble with this chapter. Seriously I deleted and rewrote it a number times before finally getting something I was at least happy with. I intended to have Hermione reveal some of her past but it honestly just didn't work, seemed really forced so that's something that i'll hopefully be able to bring up later, more organically and in bite sized bits without putting out a super dense and boring chapter...

Anywho hope this one isn't too bad! We're nearly at the end of the films events! Thank you to The Queen of Thornes who continues to be the most excellent and helpful beta. Seriously without them this chapter would have never made it to the posting stage... totally hit a wall while writing. I really can't thank the Queenie enough. Also thank you to Feline also, who continues to listen to me blather on about my ideas, encourages me and helps me stay motivated while writing particularly tough chapters. Seriously these two are too good!

Right. Well. Personal responses at the bottom and a very happy new year to you all! Let's get to it!

* * *

The motley group return to Newt's case after finally recapturing the now shrunken Occamy and Dougal the Demiguise.

Hermione stood a short while away from Newt, her irritation with the man not quite gone, watching as he leads Dougal by the hand to his little home.

"Here she comes." He says lifting the Demiguise up and into its nest. His once again exposed forearms flexing

"Happy to be home? Bet you're exhausted, buddy. Come-on-there you go-that's right." He whispers to Dougal with a soft smile. Hermione's expression relaxes at the scene.

Her eyes trail to Tina a little ways away, anger and irritation spiking in her chest as she remembers how Tina ordered Queenie to go digging around in her head.

She understands now, how Harry felt every night he returned from a lesson with Snape in their fifth year, exposed, vulnerable. _It was an invasion of privacy- it's just not done._ Hermione thinks, a frown on her face as Tina, unconcerned for Hermione's inner turmoil, glances between the various enclosures, face full of wonder and admiration.

Jacob chuckles lightly at Tina's expression, unaware of the frown Hermione is sending at Tina and the irritation and anger rolling off the woman in waves. The old adage her Mother taught her springs to mind as she watches the other woman. _If looks could kill._

"Ouch!" Newt suddenly exclaims, catching Hermione's attention once more, her expression adopting a neutral look.

Newt fishes Pickett out of his pocket, holding him up on his hand as he strides through the various enclosures, Hermione shadows him silently, curious to see how he'll explain his way out of this one.

"Right... I think we need to talk. See, I wouldn't have let him keep you, Pickett. Pick, I would rather chop off my hand than get rid of you... After everything you have done for me-now come on." He pleads as they reach the magnificent Thunderbird's enclosure.

Poppy clacks quietly in Hermione's hair, pulling at a few stray strands as she makes her way to the front.

"Pick- we've talked about sulking before, haven't we. Pickett- come on, give me a smile. Pickett, give me a..."

Hermione watches as Pickett sticks out his tiny tongue and blows a raspberry at Newt.

 _Serves him right._ Hermione thinks cupping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles, Poppy cackling as she swings in her hair.

"All right- now, that is beneath you." Newt replies placing Pickett on his shoulder, Hermione can't help but laugh loudly at the pair, gaining the man's attention.

His surprised eyes dart to her, seeing the mirth she doesn't hide. An embarrassed smile graces his features before he drops his gaze as if remembering something painful, his expression falling before turning and busying himself with various buckets of feed.

"And you?" He asks, back turned, a sliver of pleading in his tone, eyes focused on the task at hand.

"Hmm?" Hermione asks stepping closer to the man, coming to a stop at his side as Poppy and Pickett begin to argue from the shoulders of their respective hosts.

Hermione sticks a tongue out playfully at the small Bowtruckle on Newts shoulder earning herself a raspberry in return. Her laughter fills the air once more as Newt turns to her, gaze darting between hers and the floor, wringing his hands nervously.

"It was obvious you were upset with me for giving away Pickett and- attempting to- _placate_ you through the use of the unusual magic between us." He begins. "You have to understand I wouldn't- I would never- It- I was wrong. I shouldn't have done what I did and I promise I won't ever do that again." Newt says in a rush, eager to explain himself but unable to fully articulate his feelings.

Hermione releases a huff of air, looking to the sky where the Thunderbird circles far above their heads, silence filling the air around them as she gathers her thoughts, sucking a great gulp of air into her lungs.

She was hurt and angry, these feelings probably wouldn't fully go away for a time yet but while Hermione may not be able to condone his actions, she was no stranger to making questionable decisions in the heat of the moment. Desperation often leads one to commit acts that they would not otherwise do. With that thought in mind she answers the waiting man.

"Mmm I suppose if Pickett has forgiven you for nearly giving him away I can as well." She responds with a soft smile, turning her eyes to him once more. "As for using our connection to placate me...well. You would do best to remember your promise. Please don't break my trust in such a way again and you better not expect me to forgive you so easily if you pull something so foolish again."

A tentative smile stretches across the handsome man's face as he tilts his chin up, more confident now, looking directly into Hermione's eyes. Newt reaches forward, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear, careful not to brush her skin, leaning in close, the curl wrapping about his finger.

"A fool indeed-" He begins, blue eyes darkening slightly. "Should I take that to mean that you have no intentions of leaving me to my own devices anytime soon?" He questions, voice soft, his words heavy and full of meaning, his tongue darting out between his slightly parted lips.

Hermione's breath catches as she follows the line of his tongue before staring into the shining depths of his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her lips, a smirk curving her mouth suddenly as she leans forward, her lips close to his ear.

 _Two can play at this game._ She thinks letting out a small breath of air, her vindictive streak making an appearance, eyes shining as as he stiffens, his hand dropping from her hair.

"If you'll have me" She says voice low, tone playful. "It seems as though you're the type of man trouble loves to find."

Newt stiffens, clearing his throat as Hermione pulls away, their faces still close, breath mingling as their eyes meet once more.

"Says the Gryffindor to the Hufflepuff." Newt murmurs, tongue darting out from between his lips, Hermione's whiskey coloured eyes following it's path, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Her irritation with Newt had subsided, and though she could forgive him for what he did she wouldn't be able to forget for a while yet.

"Hey, Newt. Who is she?" Queenie's voice fills the air around them, the two breaking apart swiftly, turning to face the clearly amused woman.

"I- Ah- Who?" Newt questions, struggling to gather his bearings once more.

Hermione's eyes follow the line of Queenie's pale, delicate hand as she motions to a photograph sitting just inside Newts shed.

 _Who indeed._ Hermione thinks, squinting her eyes, examining the picture of the the beautiful girl smiling suggestively from within the frame.

 _A girlfriend? Or and ex perhaps?_ She questions mentally, a sliver of anxiety pricking her senses.

Hermione's gaze darts to Newt as an audible gulp fills the air, his adams apple bobbing, eyes darting about as if uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Hermione's brows furrow as she narrows her eyes at the man beside her in question.

"Ah... That's no one." Newt answers, tongue darting across his lips, his eyes falling on Hermione before looking away as if guilty of something.

"Leta L-Lestrange? I- I've Heard of that family. Aren't they kinda- you know?" Queenie asks, stumbling a bit over her words, sending a worried glance in Hermione's direction as the name Lestrange fills the air.

Hermione freezes, a shakey breath falling from her lips, taking calming breaths in order to slow her racing heart, having no desire to drag Queenie along for another trip down memory lane starring Bellatrix Lestrange so soon after the last.

"Please don't read my mind." Newt asks, his tone a little harder than he intended. Turning around to busy himself with the buckets of feed once more, unwilling to meet Hermione or Queenie's eyes.

A beat passes as Queenie drinks the whole story out of Newt's head. A number of emotions flit across her expression, intrigue, sadness, a touch displaced anger. Newt continues to work, trying hard to pretend Queenie isn't reading his mind.

Hermione feels as though the world as she knew it was being torn out from under her, a rush of emotions assaulting her senses, a cackling reminiscent of Bellatrix's filling her mind.

 _They're not the same person._ Hermione attempts to reason with herself, breathing heavily as she clutches at her chest, attempting to sort through her frayed nerves and push down the rising fear and anxiety.

Queenie steps forward, closer to Newt and Hermione. Her eyes darting nervously between the two.

"Sorry, I asked you not to." Newt says, tone angry and embarrassed as he slams a bucket down with a little more force than necessary causing Hermione to jump, breaking her from her thoughts.

Her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. She stares at Newt's back, an expressionless look falling in place across her face.

"I know, i'm sorry, I can't help it. It's like I told Hermione, people are easiest to read when they're hurting."

At her words Newt freezes, body going stiff, a shaky breath falling from his lips, head hung.

"I'm not hurting. Anyway, it was a long time ago."

"That was a real close friendship you had at school." Queenie whispers nervously, looking quickly in Hermione's direction, an action unnoticed by either of her companions.

"Yes, well, neither of us really fitted in at school, so we-" Newt says in attempt to be dismissive, turning his gaze to Queenie, taking note of Jacob and Tina standing not far behind.

"-became real close. For years." Hermione releases an audible rush of air, catching the attention of all those but Newt.

"She was a taker. You need a giver." She finishes softly, her greyish green eyes on Hermione.

Newt follows her gaze, blue eyes landing on Hermione's tense form. He opens his mouth as if wishing to say something, anything, but closes it abruptly, unable to find the words.

* * *

Percival Graves apparates into the shadows of the Second Salem Church.

He holds a replacement wand before him as he approaches the dreary structure, his curious expression besieged with touches of irritation and desperation as he examines the destruction laid bare before him. His expression changes and the irritation and desperation melt away, excitement and intrigue taking their place.

* * *

"What are you three talking about?" Tina asks, having caught the tail end of their conversation but unable to make sense of her sister's words.

Hermione can't help the slight sneer that curves her lips then.

 _Tina._ She thinks, her irritation with the young woman continuing to grow and fester within her. Growing ever nearer to her breaking point. Hermione runs a frenzied, shaking hand through her hair, attempting to clamp down on the emotions building within her.

* * *

Graves enters the destroyed church, wand still drawn, moonlight filtering through the gaps in the derelict roof, bathing the man in an eerie, ominous glow. Chastity lies dead amid debris from the attack. He pays the corpse no mind, stepping over her, she's nothing, not at all useful in his current state and continues his search. An eerie sobbing can be heard from somewhere within the building.

He approaches Mary Lou's body beneath the banister, it lies twisted and disfigured before him, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he stares at the marks on her face, visible in the moonlight.

An odd look mars his handsome face then, he's not horrified nor disgusted at the gruesome sight, instead, he's positively giddy.

* * *

"Nothing of any importance." Hermione says, eyes falling on Tina, the single word sharper than Gryffindor's sword as it passes her lips.

Silence descends over the group, Hermione looks to Jacob standing just behind Tina as he shifts uncomfortably unsure of what to do. The tension in the air palpable as Tina and Hermione's gazes meet once more. A silent battle of wills, their opinions of one another clear. Two women so very similar yet entirely different.

"How about I be the judge of that." Tina says finally, gaze hard, jaw set in a stern line, the challenge clear in her voice.

Bellatrix's cackles fill Hermione's mind once more, breathing hard as her senses are overwhelmed. The name Lestrange swirling through her mind as if taunting her, her own irritation with the woman before her and the memories of Lestrange blending together, causing her tenuous grip on her emotions to slip.

Behind her Queenie flinches, a flash of the mad, cackling woman filling her mind once more as she catches the tail end of Hermione's growing emotions.

* * *

Credence is cowering at the back of the destroyed church, whimpering and clutching his pendant of the Deathly Hallows, tight in a pale, shaking hand. Taking notice of the young man Graves steps quickly toward him. He bends down, cradling Credence's head like a mother would a scared child. However the disconnect between his actions and words is clear as his deep voice fills the room.

"The Obscurial- was here? Where did she go?" He asks, the lack of tenderness in his voice clear.

Credence looks up at the older man, he is utterly traumatised and unable to explain. His face a plea for affection.

"Help me. Help me." He begs, voice cracking.

"Didn't you tell me you had another sister?" At the question Credence begins to weep once more.

Graves places a hand on the young mans neck, his mask beginning to slip, his stress and irritation with the situation becoming clear. Still he attempts to remain calm.

"Please help me." Credence begs once more, voice desperate, fingers clutching at Graves robes.

"Where's your other sister, Credence? The little one? Where did she go?" Credence trembles and mumbles in response, pulling against Graves hand, attempting to bury his face into the other mans chest.

"Please help me." Suddenly the mask is dropped completely, a furious expression contorting his handsome features into a viscous expression.

Graves pulls back his free arm, slapping Credence hard across the face. The loud smack echoes within the ruined room. Credence looks up into the mans face, no longer weeping, expression stunned.

"Your sister is in grave danger. We need to find her." Graves' practically growls, fingers digging into the tender flesh of the boys neck.

Credence is aghast, unable or perhaps unwilling to comprehend that his hero has hit him. Graves grabs him and pulls him to his feet roughly as they Disapparate away.

* * *

"Oh yes." Hermione says, a bitter laugh falling from her mouth, a hint of madness leaking into her voice. "Porpentina Goldstein; Judge, Jury and and Executioner."

Try as she might to forget or come to terms with all that had happened to her in the past, some experiences were so deeply ingrained in Hermione's subconscious that they greatly affected her to this day.

Tina stands before her, mouth opening and closing in shock.

"Hermione-" Queenie begins behind her, voice quiet, soothing.

Hermione ignores the blonde, stepping towards the shocked woman before her, easily closing the space between them until they're standing nearly toe to toe.

"Tell me. Did you even bother checking into me before you presented us before the MACUSA and all of those delegates? You didn't, did you? If you had, you wouldn't have doubted me before when I told you it was impossible for Graves to have known my name. What is my name Tina? Who am I? Where did I come from? Hermione _who_?" She asks, a derisive tone filling her voice as the final question spills from her lips.

"I- You have n-" Tina begins, voice angry, the words dying as her lips as Hermione holds up a single steady hand, silencing her.

"I'm not finished!" Hermione growled. "You didn't even give Newt a chance to explain himself before eagerly handing him over to the authorities. You handed over a case full of _harmless_ creatures to the MACUSA! Recklessly endangering the poor things, creatures that wouldn't even have been able to defend themselves if Graves had decided to incinerate the case on the spot! Did you even think?" Hermione continues, steadily gaining steam, hands fisted at her sides. "Wizards! Doesn't matter the nationality- why bother with learning anything about those you would condemn? Anyone or anything deemed less then them is instantly a second class citizen, deemed to be little more than a beast in need of being put down!"

Unseen by either women, Newt's mouth is dropped open in surprise, a look of wonder and great respect mingling across his face as he takes in the wild haired woman giving an impassioned speech before him. The mention of _'anyone'_ causing his brows to furrow in thought, yet another piece of the puzzle to add to the ever growing mystery of one Hermione Jean Granger.

* * *

Credence and Graves Apparate onto a deserted street, cloaked in the cover of darkness they approach a tenement building.

Inside the building is miserable, dilapidated. Credence and Graves begin to climb the partially ruined stairwell.

"What is this place?" Graves asks, taking in the building around them as they ascend the steps.

"Ma adopted Modesty out of here. From a family of twelve. She still misses her brothers and sisters. She still talks about them." Credence explains, his voice calmer now.

Graves, wand in hand looks around the landing-there are numerous darkened doorways stretching out in several directions.

Credence, still shell-shocked has stopped in the stairwell.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know." Credence's answer is quiet, the young man looking down. He's at a complete loss.

Graves becomes increasingly impatient. He's so close to his goal yet not close enough. He marches forward into one of the rooms.

"You're a squib, Credence. I could smell it off you the minute I met you." Graves tells him, his voice carrying, tone absolute.

"What?" Credence's face falls.

Graves marches back along the corridor to try another room, his pretence of care for Credence all but forgotten.

"You have magical ancestry, but no power."

"But you said you could teach me-"

"You're unteachable. Your mother's dead. That's your reward." Graves sneers as he points to another landing. "I'm done with you." His words are final, their conversation meeting an abrupt end.

Credence doesn't move. He stares after Graves, his breathing becoming shallow and quick, as though he's trying to contain something.

Graves moves through the dark rooms. A tiny movement somewhere close by catches his attention.

"Modesty?" He asks, voice carrying in the surrounding silence.

Graves advances cautiously into a derelict schoolroom at the end of the corridor.

* * *

None of the assembled group notices as the sky above them begins to darken, storm clouds swirling above their heads.

All eyes are on the two arguing women who look to be close to blows. Neither willing to back down, both set on proving their point.

"M- Me?" Tina screeches. "And you're little miss perfect aren't you! No respect for authority- you punched the Director of Magical Security and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the face before binding him and stealing not only his, but another persons wand! You're a criminal!" Tina shouts, rage clear. Unwilling to be further chastised by the woman before her without providing any sort of defence.

* * *

Modesty cowers in the corner of a dark, derelict room, wide-eyed and shaking with fear as Graves approaches.

"Modesty." Graves whispers as he bends down and puts his wand away, once more playing the soothing parent.

"There's no need to be afraid. I'm here with your brother, Credence." At the mention of her brother, Modesty whimpers with terror.

"Out you come, now.." Graves says, ignoring her terrified whimper, the connection not being made as he extends his hand.

A faint jingling sound fills the room, cracks begin to appear in the ceiling, spreading like a spider's web. Dust begins to fall as the walls shake uncontrollably, the room beginning to disintegrate around them.

Graves stands. He looks down at Modesty, clearly drawing a conclusion, she is clearly terrified and not the source of this magic. Graves turns and slowly draws his wand, confusion clear on his face as the wall in front of him collapses as though turned to sand, revealing another wall ahead. Modesty is nothing to him now, the young terrified girl all but forgotten. Her life no longer of any importance in his mind.

As each wall collapses before him, he is transfixed, elated even, yet also very much aware that he has made a colossal error.

The final wall collapses, revealing Credence, who stares at him. The young man shakes, fists clenched at his sides, unable to control his fury, his sense of betrayal, his bitterness.

* * *

"Oh come off it!" Hermione shouts, at the equally enraged woman before her. "We're both criminals now. Though, please do tell me which is truly worse. Incapacitating a man who may very well not be who he truly claims to be and was dead set on executing us all or forcing your very own sister to go digging around in my mind without my consent. Forcing not only her but myself to relive one of my very worst memories all because you wouldn't believe me. You're bli-"

A gigantic crack of thunder suddenly fills the room, silencing Hermione, all eyes looking to the sky as the Thunderbird rises into the air screeching, flapping its wings vigorously, it's body turning black and gold, eyes flashing lightning.

Newt examines the bird, clearly concerned.

"Danger. He senses danger." Another crack of thunder fills the room, lightening bathing the group in an eerie glow.

* * *

"Credence... I owe you an apology..." Graves begins slowly addressing the furious young man before him.

"I trusted you. I thought you were my friend. That you were different." Credence's face begins to contort, his rage tearing him from within.

"You can control it, Credence." Graves attempts to soothe the young man, hand held out.

"But I don't think I want to, Mr. Graves." Credence whispers, finally making eye contact with the man before him.

The Obscurus moves horribly beneath Credence's skin. An awful inhuman growl comes out of his mouth, from which something dark begins to bloom.

Graves watches the scene before him completely fascinated. The dark force finally takes over Credence, his whole body exploding into a dark mass that hurtles forward out the window, narrowly missing Graves.

Graves stands watching as the Obscurus zooms out and over the city.

* * *

Now free of the small, darkened room, the Obscurus churns and twists through the city, wreaking havoc. Cars are sent flying, pavements explode, and buildings are demolished. Nothing is left untouched, the Obscurus leaves only destruction in its wake.

* * *

Once more free of the case, Tina, Jacob, Newt, Hermione and Queenie stand on the rooftop underneath a large sign. From the edge they have a clear view of the chaos going on below.

 _Oh god._ Hermione thinks looking at the destruction below, her mind instantly going back to the end of the final battle.

Her breath catches, breathing becoming laboured as the memory begins to take form. She's taken back in time, the smell of dust and a coppery scent filling her senses.

 _Harry, Hermione and Ron exit the great hall, looking far worse for wear, blood and dirt obscuring their skin._

 _Though they had won the castle was in ruins. Great chunks missing from the marble staircase, part of balustrade gone. Tripping over rubble as the trio make their way through the now destroyed halls, bloodstains, some still wet, marking the walls and floor every few steps. In the distance Peeves could be heard singing a victory song of his own composition._

 _The battle had been won, but at what cost. She can't help but think as she takes in the destruction around her, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, a heavy weight in her chest._

She's broken from her thoughts as Queenie grips her shaking hand in her own. The two women share a look of understanding. Another experience shared thanks to Queenie's talents. Hermione takes a deep shaking breath as she focuses on the scene below once more, the warmth of Queenie's hand and firm grip calming her, anchoring her in the present.

"Jeez... Is that the Obscuria- thing?" Jacob asks, breaking the silence.

Sirens sound, the group stares at the scene below, registering the scale of the destruction.

"That's more powerful than any Obscurial I have ever heard of..." Newt says, trailing off as he turns, looking to Hermione in question.

 _They must be incredibly powerful._ Hermione thinks as she shakes her head in response, eyes widening at the implications.

A particularly loud explosion sounds in the distance. The city beneath them is beginning to burn. Hermione takes a deep calming breath once more, unable to stop the adrenaline that's begun to burn in her veins, the urge to move, to do something, anything filling her to the brim.

Suddenly without warning, Newt steps back, quickly approaching Queenie before thrusting his case into her hands, forcing the two woman to release their grip abruptly so the case doesn't plummet onto the ground below. He pulls a journal from his pocket.

"If I don't come back, look after my creatures. Everything that you need to know is in there." He tells her before handing off the journal, barely able to make eye contact.

"What?" Queenie asks, her shock quickly turning to understanding as Hermione furrows her brow at the man as he makes his way back onto the roof's edge next to her.

"They're not killing it." His says, voice hard as he looks back to the Obscurus below.

Newt looks to Hermione one final time, their eyes meet. A swirl of brown and blue, a look of sadness, longing and regret filling his gentle features. He opens his mouth as if to say something before snapping it shut.

 _It's a suicide mission._ She thinks, a look of understanding filling her features, quickly putting the pieces together. Her lips press together in a tight line as Newt looks away, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. She watches as if in slow motion as he steps forward with a single foot, preparing to jump from the roof.

"Oh no you don't." Hermione growls, making her decision, reaching out to grip his arm just as he jumps, shocked blue eyes falling on her face as they begin to fall, Hermione being pulled along with him. His arms cradle her waist pulling her flush against his body, the wind whipping against their skin, face to face, noses touches. He looks into her eyes, breath catching as he takes in her determined gaze. With a pop they Disapparate, the air feeling as though it's been sucked from their lungs.

* * *

There's a pause, time seems to freeze as Tina, Queenie and Jacob look at the place where Hermione and Newt just were.

Queenie gasps, a delicate hand reaching up to cover her mouth as Jacob lets out a low whistle.

Tina makes an angry noise under her breath.

"I'm going to check out what's going on below." Tina says before Disapparating.

"Keep holda that, Honey." Queenie says, shoving Newt's case at Jacob.

She moves to Disapparate, but Jacob hangs on to her and she falters.

"No, no, no!" He shouts, clearly distraught.

"I can't take you. Please let go of me Jacob!" She tries to reason, pulling against his grip.

"Hey-Hey! You're the one that said I was one of youse... right?" An explosion sounds in the distance once more.

"It's too dangerous." At her words, Jacob tightens his grip slightly, staring into her eyes. She can't help but read his mind and her expression changes to one of wonderment and tenderness as she sees what he went through in the war. She's moved and appalled, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she very slowly raises a hand and touches his cheek.

Jacob, Hermione, Newt... of all the people in the world, of everyone she and Tina could meet these were the people she now called friends. They didn't look down on her, they weren't truly afraid. Though Hermione and Newt had more they wished to hide from those around them they didn't think any less of her for the power she couldn't fully control. They didn't resent her for the things she had seen.

 _Newt Scamander._

The man with a case full beautiful, wonderful and the most magnificent of creatures. An outsider, a loner, so clearly misunderstood and looking not only to be understood but for understanding. His experiences, experiences which would have pushed lesser men to cruelty and contempt having made him kind, gentle and empathetic to all those he meets. Fiercely intelligent and determined, he was sure to make his mark on the world before his time was done, his name one day becoming a household name.

A soft smile stretches across her face.

 _Hermione Granger..._

Though she had yet to share many of her secrets, Queenie knew some of the truth. The impossible girl who fell through time. All of those secrets, they were eating her alive. Haunted by her past, unable to truly let go. A number of unresolved emotions waging a silent war within her very soul. A childhood lost too young, fighting on the front lines of a war that was not hers to fight, a fierce warrior unwilling and unable to watch the suffering of others and do nothing, a hero for the weak, willing to stand up for those unwilling or unable to do so themselves. Like Newt, she too was an outsider, often giving more than she received in return, prejudice and hatred colouring her every experience within the magical world. Like Newt these experiences did little to deter her from her path. She'd face any obstacle thrown her way with her chin held high, mind already set, and enough courage and nerve to make a lion cower in fear.

 _Jacob Kowalski._ Queenie thinks staring into the eyes of the man before her. The skin of his face warm, under the palm of her hand. Sweet, gentle Jacob, so very kind and open minded, a soldier despite what he may say. A hero. His actions and thoughts here and now speaking volumes, further endearing himself to her.

Another explosion sounds in the distance as the two lose themselves in each others eyes. Queenie's hand gently caressing his cheek. The city below them burning, the smell of dust and burning wood filling the air.

With a final smile Queenie drops her hand, gripping one of his own tight in hand as they Disapparate away.

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

Brian1972: I don't disagree that Hermione's being there would begin to have an impact on the events during this time period. They already are. However, I believe that the impact she has is more subtle. No changes would be immediate unless she suddenly decided to hijack the entire plot which I did not want. The events of the film only cover 2-3 days which I mentioned before. I needed a starting point. The films events are only the beginning and from the very first chapter I intended to write a story that goes past the events of the film and further into the future. Hermione will be staying in this time, all of these meetings and small subtle things will become important and more than likely her presence in this time will begin to greatly affect the timeline and influence the main players of the game.

Mystic707: The touch stimulation will be explained and soon. I swear it! I know i've left it unexplained for a while but I swear there is an explanation and it will be addressed. As for your other question about the time turner... in part yes, that's all i'll say about that for now but it is partly connected. Right! I really think Hermione and Queenie could be great friends despite how their relationship began.

Ndavis77: I was so damn tempted to write 'Together or not at all' into that scene near the end where Newt and Hermione fell... restrained myself though. The Doctor Who is strong within me.

Crimson-Midnight-Moon: I am very, very glad you found the last chapter entertaining and not boring! Definitely makes me feel a bit better about it :)

BlackArtWhiteVoice: Ehhh not this time... though I imagine we'll have a chance to see Newt dealing with a seriously injured Hermione at some point in the future.

Maytesalvatore: In Graves body? If so hell yes... though sadly probably won't happen... maybe though, we'll see how the next chapter goes. Grindelwald in his actual body flirting with her... could happen but definitely does not give me the same feelings... So very white...

CalmDisposition: ehhh for now just like this... though she won't forget what he did and I think that may cause some issues later down the line perhaps. Hmmm hmm as for Queenie and their reactions to Newt. As mentioned above I completely redid this chapter a few times, rewriting it again and again until I got something I was pleased with. One version did have a partial explanation of her past and a bit more obvious deepening of her and Queenie/ her and Newts relationships but it was terrible. Super dense and wordy. Seemed forced and I just couldn't work it. It is a conversation that will have to be had, especially the Bellatrix bit with Newt but i'm thinking it can't be organically fit in until after the final events of the film sadly. That's alright though! I'm feeling a bit more confident and getting more ideas for the story after the film every single day so hopefully i'll be able to roll right into the after film story without pause!

Dragonmama45: They will be getting their alone time I swear it ;)

Niffler Nat: Thank you for the kind words! As for your questions and comments. I don't really think Tina had a chance to develop any sort of interest in Newt in this story. Hermione's presence just kind of threw a wrench into that aspect of the story and Newt hasn't really been paying any serious attention to Tina. Also I wish to shed even more light on Hermione's character, her past, present and future and all that she's experienced. It's only the beginning. As for Harry and Ron. Agreed. That does need to be explored and written about more but there just hasn't seemed like a good time to really do so yet plus yes, true they have been busy. Pshhh don't worry I love long comments!

Aimee: Totally gorgeous! Hmmm excellent question... Love me a good flapper dress as well but not very practical for running around New York in and battling it out with dark creatures and a dark lord. Soooo i'd say she just did an offscreen clothing change and is back in her regular clothes for the time being. Hopefully the flapper dress will make another appearance though ;) Nah though Tina isn't a bad guy and I didn't mean to make Hermione go off so much but she's just all sorts of emotional atm and partially taking it out on Tina since she's the only one she hasn't really had time to connect with. According to pottermore my Patronus is actually a Tigress which I can't say i'm all that disappointed with :) Not a very creative one in terms of meaning but also still somewhat fitting.

Silverwolfigther00: The wands were stolen in Chapter 12 I believe, one is Grindelwalds the other is one of the executioners.

Fire Dolphin: Honestly? Because I didn't think about until after the book fell out in Newt's case which is sloppy writing on my part. I wanted a way to have him really find out about her true identity and the book was the first way I thought of... But! That's not to say it wasn't at least partially charmed by the time it reached Graves office ;)

L: I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see ;)


	16. Hermione Jean Granger

**DISCLAIMER** : Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note** : Right... so. Real sorry about the wait guys! I have a few commissions i'm working on at the moment which have been taking up a lot of my time plus there were a few issues with the chapter.

 **Important** : If this chapter seems a bit messy to you... I really do apologize, I had to edit it myself and after rereading the first few chapters I posted without a Beta i've realized editing is not my strongest skill *cringe*. Queenie needs to take some time off so I find myself in need of a Beta, I was apprehensive to even post this chapter without a beta in all honesty which is part of the reason that this update took so long.

 **EDIT** : Beta found!

Also thank you to Feline for reading this chapter before I posted it to make sure I didn't just make a complete mess of things!

Oh Also! You all didn't realize I was planning to continue past the films events? I mean I have been sitting on the fence a bit about that decision, trying to muster up the courage to forge on but from the very first chapter that was my plan! I'm in this thing for the long run... let's just hope I don't make a complete mess of things... Also i've been making timelines and character sheets like a crazy person... I'm apprehensive about adding OC characters but if we're going back to England and possibly France/ elsewhere I have very little to work off of for any existing characters in this time period... so yeah that's what i've been working on lately as I wrap up the events leading to the end of the film, i'm hoping to roll right into the second part of Newt and Hermione's story as soon as we leave New York (not breaking the story up, the title's staying the same).

Right. Well. Thank you as always for all the kind words and reviews! I love reading them! Personal responses at the bottom. Let's get to it!

* * *

"Are you sure you weren't a Gryffindor?" Hermione asks, a startled laugh falling from her lips as she straightens her back, her stomach once more settled after suddenly Apparating from the roof to one end of Times Square.

Newt mumbles something under his breath a few feet away.

"What was that?" Hermione asks, tilting her head slightly, unable to make out his mumbled words.

"The hat considered it-" Newt replies, a bashful expression on his face as he shrugs his shoulders slightly.

"Of course it did." Hermione huffs, turning to take in the scene around them up close.

The city is burning. The scene on the ground is one of total chaos. Buildings are on fire, people scream and run in all directions, cars lie destroyed in the streets.

"And didn't we just have a conversation about doing foolish thi-" Hermione continues absentmindedly, voice trailing off as her eyes alight on the form of Percival Graves who prowls through Times Square a little further up the street, oblivious and uncaring of the distress around him, his focus concentrated on only one thing.

Her brows furrow, Newt coming to stand beside her as they follow Graves line of sight.

The Obscurus writhes at one end of the square, its energy angrier now. Moving through layers of hurt and anguish, the products of isolation and torment, flecks of red light roaring from within. Credence's face is just barely discernible within the mass, distorted, pained. Graves stands before it, triumphant.

Fear and pity shoot through her then as the young man's face comes into view, unable to pinpoint where his dark hair ends and the writhing black mass begins.

' _An Obscurus is developed under very specific conditions: trauma associated with the use of magic, internalized hatred of one's own magic and a conscious attempt to suppress it._ ' Hermione thinks suddenly, the image of a book strewn open in her mind, highlighting the single sentence in the middle of a dense passage.

"Harry-" Hermione breaths, a sliver of horror filling her voice as her breath catches. The memory of her very first meeting with Harry filling her mind.

 _An 11 year old Harry Potter sits across from Hermione in a carriage of the Hogwarts Express, a pair of broken glasses on his face. The bridge of his frames held together by a wad of tape._

 _She quickly takes in his appearance, taking note of the small kitchen related injuries criss crossing his hands. A variety of silvery scars and fresh wounds marring his skin, his hands so very small. Hermione furrows her brows, a thoughtful expression on her childish face._

 _How curious. She thinks, intelligent brown eyes canvassing his person more thoroughly, taking note of the clearly much too large clothing covering his thin frame._

 _Hand me downs. Her mind supplies._

 _The way the young boy holds himself as if uncomfortable with their vicinity, as though eager for her to leave. She's well aware of how she's often perceived though she doesn't believe she's done much to warrant this level of discomfort and possible dislike yet._

 _Her lips pull in a tight line as her eyes fall upon a sickly green bruise clearly in the healing stage peaking just above the gaping collar of his shirt, his bones prominent, his frame much to thin and small for a boy his age._

 _She shakes her head, wild, bushy curls bouncing before clearing her throat, pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind to be explored more at a later date._

' _For example.' Hermione begins, levelling her wand at his face, the tip pointed at the bridge right between his eyes._

' _Occulus Reparo.'_ _with a puff of smoke the tape is pulled from his glasses, the spell instantly repairing his broken frames. 'That's better isn't it.'_

 _The young boy looks to his red haired companion, the two sharing a shocked look._

 _Pride swells within her._

The idea had occurred to her before- the idea that if the circumstances had been different, if Harry had been different it was highly likely that he would have himself, been an Obscurial.

He was powerful, so very powerful. Quick to anger and known to hold a grudge. His emotions often unstable, in large part thanks to the piece of Voldemort's soul residing within his head as they would later learn, but in no small part thanks to his early formative years.

He was lied to, abused, both physically and mentally if all she believed to be true about his home life was indeed correct. The Dursley's hated magic, Petunia hated her sister, a witch, and from what she knew of Vernon Dursley it wasn't hard to imagine what would have become of their relationship if Hagrid had never found Harry and whisked him away to Hogwarts for the majority of the year. His power would have continued to grow, even without training. Until suddenly, one day, without warning it would have burst from within him, seeking an outlet, wild and raw without a means to channel his power.

Honestly it was a wonder he hadn't already reached his breaking point long before he attended Hogwarts.

 _Could this have been Harry?_ Hermione thinks, a contemplative expression with a touch of sadness crossing her face.

 _Though perhaps- perhaps the piece of Voldemort's soul residing within harry would have made that impossible- perhaps thanks to his being a Horcrux, his being an Obscurial was impossible-_ Her thoughts continue to dance through her mind, the endless number of 'What if's" filling her mind.

 _This isn't the time._ She chastises herself mentally as her and Newt watch as Graves continue to approach the Obscurus, voice loud and carrying as he begins to speak.

"To survive so long, with this inside you Credence, is a miracle. You are a miracle. Come with me-think of what we could achieve together." A number of emotions cross Hermione's face as she watches the Obscurus move closer to Graves, the young man's face occasionally appearing in the writhing mass.

 _Credence._ She thinks, rolling the name around in her mind. Unable to stop herself from imagining a young Harry in his place, remembering the young child from her files, younger than Credence but the incident no less devastating. The young girl's face merging with the other two in her mind.

Hermione clutches her chest, stepping forward as if to act. Angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, rage building within her, directed solely at the person claiming to Graves. Her own regrets and memories weighing her down, pushing her to action. Her wand slides into her hand, magic singing as she begins to approach, halted by a single heavy hand gripping her upper arm in a sturdy grip.

Hermione turns, expression furious, her mass of curling brown hair, whipping wildly in the wind with the movement.

Newt furrows his brows in confusion as their eyes meet, expression questioning.

"Who is he?" Hermione begins, voice hard like cut steel. "Credence. Who is that boy." She clarifies, a slight hiss in her voice.

A scream fills the air, Hermione and Newt look to scene before them once more as a dark energy bursts from the Obscurus, knocking Graves to the ground. The force sends a shock wave around the square.

There's a sharp tug on Hermione's arm as Newt pulls her to him, diving behind a fallen car for cover.

The two fall to the ground, Hermione straddling Newt's waist, breathing heavy, hearts beating a wild rhythm against their chests, adrenaline pumping. An explosion sounds in the distance as Hermione rolls to the side, coming into a crouching position behind the car, Newt quickly joining her.

"He's the second Salem boy-I saw him in Tina's memories in the death chamber." Newt explains above the noise around them. "He's the Obscurial."

"He's a little old-" Hermione muses, peeking around the car, quickly scanning the scene.

"I know- but I saw him-his power must be so strong-he's somehow managed to survive. It's incredible." Newt breaths, clearly intrigued and a touch horrified.

The Obscurus screams once more. Hermione grits her teeth, looking to Newt.

"Newt. We're going to save him." Hermione suddenly says catching Newt's attention as Tina Apparates behind them, cautiously approaching, eyes wide as she takes in the scene.

"You get Graves." Hermione says taking note of the approaching women, sending a quick look to Tina taking control of the situation, acting quickly, unwilling to let the situation devolve into yet another screaming match and struggle for dominance.

Tina looks as though she's about to argue but Hermione ignores the young woman, focusing once more on Newt as he quirks a brow, a curious expression on his face, a slight smile curving his lips.

"And you say i'm the fool-" Suddenly, without warning he grabs her arm, Disapparating them away once more.

"Hermione." Tina growls under her breath, anger bubbling within her chest as she stares at the empty space behind the car where the duo were just moments before. With a huff she looks out into the square before dashing out towards Graves, wand at the ready, her Auror training kicking in, actions somewhat sloppy due to her building rage and irritation with the mysterious wild haired woman.

* * *

Graves is moving nearer and nearer to the Obscurus, which continues to scream and wail at his presence. He takes out his wand, poised...

Tina runs into view behind Graves. She fires at him, but he turns just in time, his reactions marvellous and astounding. It's clear that he's been holding himself back as of late.

The Obscurus now vanishes. Graves, thoroughly irritated, advances on Tina, deflecting her spells with ease.

"Tina. You're always turning up where you are least wanted." He says, his voice verging on a growl, a wild and vicious look in his eyes.

Graves sends off a volley of spells, most cast silently, knicking Tina in the side with a spell, sending her tumbling to the ground. His cruel smile grows as he summons an abandoned car. With a lazy flick of his wrist the car whooshes through the air, forcing Tina to roll out of the way, just in time. Nearly being crushed by the car in her now injured state.

Breathing heavy she looks up, pain shooting through her body at the action and notices that Graves has Disapparated once more. A curse falls from her lips as she bangs a fist against the ground.

* * *

In the Major Investigation Department of the MACUSA a metallic map of New York lights up to show areas of intense magical activity. Madame Picquery, surrounded by top Aurors, looks on, aghast.

"Contain this, or we are exposed and it will mean war." She orders, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The Aurors immediately Disapparate.

* * *

Newt and Hermione alternate between running and Apparating across the tops of buildings in hot pursuit of the Obscurus, hands now joined, fingers laced, heat building within them, breathing heavy as the strange magics and their adrenaline battle it out, both struggling to keep a clear mind and stay on task.

"Credence! Credence, I can help you." Newt shouts just before the Obscurus dives towards them. They Disapparate just in time, before continuing to chase it across the rooftops.

Suddenly spells begin to explode around them, disintegrating the rooftops around them and beneath their feet. Hermione squints her eyes, noticing the Auror's who have just appeared ahead as they attack the Obscurus, nearly catching her and Newt in the crossfire.

With her free hand Hermione conjures a shield, protecting them as they watch the scene play out before them.

"Credence-" Newt says, a sad and worried tone in his voice as he watches the Obscurus veer to avoid the spells, leaving black snow like particles that drift across the rooftops as it retreats, screaming, turning down another block.

Hermione winces at the scream, shield dropping, magic faltering.

 _Shake it off Granger._ She chastises mentally. _Different situations. This is Credence, not Harry or the young girl._ _Stay in the moment_.

Newt's forced to play the hero once more, grabbing her and pulling her out of harm's way as they watch as the Obscurus in a particularly vigorous display rises dramatically up into the air, as spells in electric blue and white hit it from all angles. Finally it crashes to the ground and races along a wide, empty street. A black tsunami destroying anything and everything in its path.

Hermione stands frozen, wrapped in Newt's arms, wide eyed, mouth hung open. Newt speaks, his chest vibrating against her own, but she's unable to hear a thing over the pained scream of the Obscurus fleeing the scene. Credence's screams continue to sound in her head, a pained scream, a plea for help. A scream she couldn't possibly ignore.

Unsure of what to do with the shell shocked woman before him, Newt holds Hermione tight, Disapparating them away once more, unrelenting in their pursuit of the Obscurus.

* * *

Outside of the subway station a line of muggle policemen stand with their guns aimed at the terrifying supernatural force powering towards them.

Their faces turn from confused to total panic as they see the mass swarming ahead, making straight for them. They fire their guns, their efforts futile in the face of such a seemingly unstoppable kinetic mass. Finally they disband, fleeing down the street, just as the Obscurus reaches them.

* * *

Hermione and Newt watch from the top of a skyscraper, far above the chaos below, looking out as the Obscurus rises up and over the surrounding buildings and slams spectacularly into the ground just outside the city hall subway entrance.

Hermione takes a breath, eyes fluttering shut as she gathers herself once more, the Obscurus momentarily falling silent. Her eyes shoot open as a pulsing, heavy, screechy breathing emanates from the Obscurus where it rests at the entrance. The black mass begins to shrink into nothing, the small figure of Credence looks over his shoulder before descending the steps into the subway.

 _He's just a boy, barely even a man._ Hermione thinks, angry tears gathering in the corners of her eyes once more, her grip tightening on Newt's hand as she looks to him, their eyes meeting, a determined expression on her face.

"This needs to stop." Hermione says, voice filled with emotion.

Newt's breath catches, his eyes softening slightly as he looks into her eyes, a single strong freckled hand coming up to rest on Hermione's cheek, thumb gently smoothing against her skin. The combination of adrenaline and the strange magics flaring between them where their skin touches nearly causing Hermione's knees to buckle.

"It will. We'll save him." Newt promises, voice strong, a gravelly tone filling his soft spoken words.

 _Honestly Granger, not the time._ She thinks as a shuddering breath falls from her lips, losing herself in his dark blue eyes, fully aware of their need to hurry but somewhat afraid of what's to come. Completely unwilling to leave things as they are.

 _Who knows what will happen down there._ Adrenaline pumping through her veins, the fire in her chest begging to be fed.

Warmth swiftly encompasses her skin, burning hotter and hotter where their bare skin meets. The blistering heat of the fires that rage below hardly registering in either of their minds as it threatens to burn them.

 _Before we go-_ Hermione thinks, tongue darting out from between her lips, a trail of moisture left in it's wake. Newt's darkened eyes watching the action as though enthralled, unable or unwilling to look away.

"Newt-" She begins, an edge of begging in her tone, doing little to fight the building flame raging within her now, a single hand gently cupping his chin, fingers leaving a trail of fire along his skin as she traces the line of his jaw, slipping her hand behind his neck, burying her fingers into his hair.

They drop one another's hands, Newt's arm cradling her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Hermione's free arm tracing the line of his body before coming to rest on his shoulder. Their heartbeats in sync, a wild rhythm beating within their chests.

Her entire body warms, the knot within her core pulled painfully tight, begging to be unwound, no longer able to be ignored. Newt's opposite hand slides into her righteous curls, gripping a handful of her hair in his slightly shaking fingers, Poppy staying silent for once within her hosts hair.

Newt's hand about her waist tightening once more, fingers digging into the tender flesh of her hip, their skin separated only by a thin layer of cloth.

Hermione takes in Newt's wind tossed hair, the colour darker now in the night sky, the light from the flames being cast from the burning city below highlighting it with shining strands of copper, his pale cheeks flushing slightly.

Newt's strong, calloused fingers massage her scalp, her eyes fluttering shut, long lashes brushing heated cheeks, a soft, contented sigh falling from her lips. The heat steadily building within her, sending shots of pleasure through her very soul.

 _More._ She begs mentally as a loud explosion sounds in the distance, knowing full well this isn't the time to be fooling around with a boy but unable and unwilling to pull away as the sound of sirens grow ever closer. She opens her eyes slightly, just enough to watch as he bends, beginning the short descent, closing the minute space between them. His warm breath caressing the the shell of her ear, nose buried in her hair.

"Hermione-" The single word sends a thrill through her body, she shivers at the sensation as he presses a heated kiss against her temple before untangling his hand from her hair, a single finger tracing the path of her jaw.

Gripping her chin gently between his fingers, tilting her head up towards his, their faces so very close, meeting her heavy lidded gaze with one of his own before finally closing the minute distance between them, breath mingling, faces so very close until finally as though he can't bare the distance any longer his lips gently brush against her own in a ghost of a kiss.

The slightest of touches is all it takes before the fire within her chest roars, the flames consuming her at once, a burning inferno just beneath her skin. The kiss quickly takes on a desperate edge, his lips pressing harder against her own. The most fervent of embraces, lips moving against her as though he intends to devour her whole, a hand sliding into her curls once more to grip the back of her neck. Pressing her entire body harder against his own, their forms molding together as if made for one another.

Suddenly, the world around them falls away, it's as though time itself stops, the air around them falling silent, the smell of dust, burning wood and rubber being washed away as if by a raging wave. The knot in her core straining further and further, painfully so until finally with a snap, a loud popping noise filling her ears the knot's unwound.

The corners of Hermione's eyes pull tight, a pained noise tearing from her and Newt's lips as they separate momentarily, struggling to catch their breath, feeling as though all the air has been sucked from their lungs, a sensation oh so familiar to that of Apparition before once more meeting in a battle for dominance, a passionate embrace, more desperate than before, filled with unspoken words, and a promise of what's to come.

Their lips move together in the most sensual of dances, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues. Neither party willing or able to relent. The magics between them seemingly satisfied but the fire burning just beneath their skin ever present and unlikely to relent anytime soon. Their need and desire for one another still present, the single kiss the confirmation of the growing attraction between the two young people.

His arm around her waist pulls her tighter against his body as if the two could become one, the overwhelming ache and need not entirely satisfied, neither party wanting to end the passionate embrace they share.

Unbeknownst to the entangled pair in the single moment that the knot within their cores finally became unwound a brilliant, shimmering golden light weaved between them, bathing the darkened sky around them in the soft golden glow of powerful, ancient magics. Their fates ever intertwined, Hermione's presence, previously a disturbance in the timeline, finally settling, anchoring her in this time, in this very place, cementing her existence.

Now, not even Merlin himself could force the pair to part. The fates had spoken, neither time nor any witch, wizard or otherwise could change what had been done. It was a second chance. A chance neither had asked for but were given none the less, two lonely, misunderstood souls finally meeting another like themselves, two pieces of a puzzle finally meeting their match and finding their place.

The impossible girl lost in time, lost no more. The magic binding them to one another, her existence anchored, but not erased.

Hermione Granger, the only child of Dan and Jean Granger would still be born on the 19th of September, 1979, she would still be thrown back in time in the year 2004 and her and Newt would still meet just as it was always meant to be. Any actions taken from this moment forth would certainly have an effect on the original timeline but none but her and those she chose to share her past with would have any idea.

However, not everything could change, some moments were fixed, so important in the grand scheme of time that no matter what one did they would eventually come to pass. Hermione's birth and subsequent fall through time were two such events. Though theses two events may seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of time her very presence in both the past and future were of the utmost importance. Her very existence, the catalyst for much of what would eventually come to pass. Her very actions, here and now rewriting and reworking the timeline in the most subtle of ways, yet never going against the fates design.

Hermione feels it then as her magic flares, a strange, foreign power touching her own. Though she's aware it isn't her own it doesn't feel threatening or wrong. A comforting warmth envelops her, a sigh falling from her lips where they're joined with Newt's own. She can almost taste the magic as it mingles with her own, the air around them filling with a scent she's recently come to know.

 _Parchment, Grass and... Petrichor-_ Her mind finally supplies, identifying the final scent. _The smell of dust after rain._

Her musings are pushed to the back of her mind as the lack of oxygen finally begins to make her dizzy, both parties pulling apart, Hermione stepping back slightly, eyes fluttering open as she meets Newt's heavy lidded gaze.

A girlish giggle escapes her swollen lips then, a wide grin stretching across her face as the sounds of the chaos below begin to filter through her senses once more, reminding her of the task at hand. Newt joins her with a laugh of his own, eyes sparkling, a mirthful expression on his face, a touch of longing and desire still present in the depths of his eyes. He pulls her close, laying one final kiss on her temple, a slight thrill racing through her body at his touch. No longer an all encompassing, all consuming need, the strange magics seemingly satisfied. Though, there's no lack of desire as his lips touch her skin but the sensations are easily ignored in order to fully face the task at hand, both parties fully aware of the need to act.

With a final, shared smile, their minds finally clear, the two untangle, hands meeting once more, fingers lacing together as they turn to the burning city below. Finally with a pop they're gone. Disapparating away, intent on rescuing the scared young man, rampaging below.

* * *

Far away, untouched by the chaos currently raging within the city of New York a young woman stands in a vast, cold chamber with a ceiling as high as a cathedral. Rows upon rows of shelves fill the room in it's entirety, each shelf filled to the brim with small, dusty, glass orbs. Some orbs glow with a soft, eerie, blue flame, while others sit cold and dark, a dusky brown or black sheen covering their spherical surface. Prophecies, either fulfilled or lost to time.

The woman stands alone within The Hall of Prophecy's, located on level 9, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic in London, England.

Suddenly, the young woman starts, a bright blue glow suddenly bursting from one of the orbs in the centre of a previously darkened row, bathing the row in it's eerie blue light. Her brows furrow as she begins to approach, her sensible heels clicking against the cobblestone floor as she moves through the hall.

"How odd." She muses as she lifts a manicured hand, shielding her eyes from the bright blue glow coming to a stop before the orb. The orb itself is a brilliant fiery blue, oh so similar to the flames produced by bluebell flames. It continues to glow brighter and brighter still as she reaches out, her manicured fingers finding purchase on the small label, careful to avoid touching the orb itself.

The label is smudged, much of the information lost to time. At the very bottom of the tag, below the smudged letters in scrawling, worn script a single name can just barely be read.

"Hermione Jean Granger." The woman says, a confused expression on her face, her mind drawing a blank at the name.

Suddenly a loud shattering sound fills the cavernous hall, the woman turns, wand at the ready, the tip emitting a small light as she looks about the hall, alert and ready to act. The orb beside her continues to glow as more pops fill the air, various orbs shattering as if the prophecies held within have been completely undone, their contents erased from existence.

The woman's mouth falls open, panic rising within her, she rushes from the hall in search of her superior. A confused and terrified expression on her face, having no knowledge of any similar occurrence ever taking place within the Hall of Prophecy's.

Shortly after, within the now abandoned hall, silence falls as the glowing blue orb dims, a steady blue flame dancing within it's glass confines, glass littering the floor of various rows.

* * *

Miles away Hermione and Newt Apparate into the city hall subway. It's a long, mosaicked, art deco station tunnel that bears clear signs of having been crossed by the Obscurus.

They take in the destruction surrounding them, a chandelier creaking above their heads, looking as though it could fall to the floor in a spray of glass at any moment, a few tiles have fallen, shattered, littering the ground with debris.

The sound of deep breathing fills the air, The Obscurus sounding as though it's been cornered, a predator sounding more like it's prey in that moment. Sounding very much like a frightened panther.

Newt leads the way as the duo creep along the platform, trying to find the epicenter of the sound, as the Obscurus slides down the ceiling.

* * *

Aurors surround the entrance to the Subway. Pointing their wands at the pavement and into the sky as together they construct an invisible energy field around the entrance.

More Auror's arrive, Graves among them. He pushes his way to the front of the crowd, scanning the area, a slight sneer on his face.

A young Auror starts as Graves draws near, a fearful expression on his face, instantly cowed as he moves out of the older man's path, fearful of the man's reaction if he were to find him in his way.

"Bar the area. I don't want anyone else down there!" Graves commands, instantly taking charge of the situation.

Just as the magical field finishes it's decent Tina and Jacob appear within the shadows just outside the magical fields exterior, an injured Tina propped up between them.

"You don't think-" Jacob begins, looking to Queenie on the other side of Tina.

"Of course they're inside." She answers his unasked question, a small sigh falling from her lips as worry grips her senses.

Between them Tina groans, a pained sound falling from her lips. Queenie busies herself with the injured woman, sending one final, worried look at the the protective dome around the subways entrance. Praying to any who will listen for her new friends safe return.

* * *

Newt releases Hermione's hand as they reach the Obscurus in the shadows of the tunnel. The Obscurus, much calmer now, swirls in the air above the train tracks like a semi solid cloud of smoke.

"Credence... It's Credence, isn't it? I'm here to help you, Credence. I'm not here to hurt you." Newt begins, voice soft and soothing as he hides partially behind a pillar, Hermione standing a few steps away.

Her head whips to the side, curls dancing in the air as she looks down a darkened tunnel, away from Newt and Credence, the sound of controlled, deliberate steps echoing in the darkness. She licks her lips, gripping her wand tight in hand, sending a quick look towards Newt as he moves out from behind the pillar and steps onto the train tracks, Hermione following close behind, concentrating on the sound of approaching footsteps. She looks to the Obscurus one final time, noticing that within the mass she can see a shadow of Credence, curled up, scared. Her heart breaks at the sight, pain building in her chest, threatening to strangle her.

She shakes her head, clearing her mind once more, taking a deep breath to center herself before looking down the tunnel once more, listening to the approaching steps, deciding to let Newt deal with Credence for the moment.

"I've met someone just like you, Credence. A girl-a young girl who'd been imprisoned, she had been locked away and she'd been punished for her magic." Newt begins to weave his tale, Credence listening, the young man having never dreamed there was any other like him.

Hermione opens her mouth, sucking a great gulp of air into her lungs, hand shaking slightly, wand clenched in a white knuckled grip as she's taken back in time by his words. The memory of her first year as the head of the department and what happened after giving the order to find the young girl and save her assaulting her senses.

 _'We tried to save her.' Higgs begins, standing before Hermione's desk giving his report, back straight, eyes forward but unable to meet her gaze._

 _She takes stock of the man before her, his eyes rimmed red, clearly far more affected by the day's events than he let's on._

 _Her nails dig into the hardwood of her desk, scratching against the smooth finished wood as if attempting to gouge long lines into it's surface._

 _Sorrow grips her, guilt build's within her chest._

Hermione continues to look back and forth between the tunnel and the pair beside her, taking stock of the situation, fighting against the memories fogging her mind, old emotions threatening to consume her. Shoulders tense, ready to strike in whichever direction needed at a moment's notice.

 _'She was terrified-W-we tried to talk to her, calm her, let her know we were there to help. Let her know we w-wouldn't hurt her.' He continues, voice cracking, struggling to force the words from his lips._

 _Your fault. The words taunt her within her mind. She grits her teeth, guilt consuming her, forcing her fingers to relax, tension building in her shoulders and between her eyes. She rubs a hand across her face. A shakey sigh falling from her lips._

 _'One of the other's, McGinty- He didn't mean to- he panicked, it was one of his first missions and he panicked-' Higg's pauses, an audible gulp filling the air between them, his dark eyes looking to the floor as he shifts his weight. 'He shot off a spell, it spooked her-she-there was no other choice-'_

Slowly the Obscurus melts away, leaving only Credence, huddled on the train tracks, looking very much like a frightened child.

The corners of Hermione's eyes pull tight, a dart of pity and regret shooting through her as Newt crouches on the ground. Credence looks to him, the tiniest trace of hope dawning in his expression.

Hermione looks away, her own guilt and shame filling her, focusing on the darkened tunnel before her once more.

 _It won't be the same._ Hermione thinks, shaking the tragic memory from her mind. Choosing to trust and believe in Newt. Choosing to believe it could be different this time.

"Credence, can I come over to you? Can I come over?" Newt asks, voice still soft, slowly moves towards the frightened young man.

Suddenly a sharp burst of light blazes out from the darkness, heading straight for the crouched forms of Newt and Credence.

Hermione reacts, instinct alone making her act, a brilliant blue shield materializing between the crouched pair and the spell, the burst of light smacking hard against the shield before exploding in an equally brilliant display of magic. Hermione breaths a sigh of relief as her shield holds. Newts eyes wide as he looks in her direction.

"G-Go!" Hermione shouts, voice cracking slightly from the strain of the unvoiced emotions raging within her only moments before, her attention now fully on the subway tunnel ahead.

A growl sounds in the darkness as Graves marches down the tunnel with intense purpose.

Finally, Graves comes into view, his lips twisted in a vicious snarl, all pretence of keeping in character gone.

"Granger." He growls, sending a number of spells in Hermione's direction in quick succession.

Behind Hermione and her shield, Newt helps Credence to his feet, the two running from the tracks, towards the tunnel's central pillars.

Hermione's hair blows over her shoulder, Poppy clacking wildly in her ear as she conjures a shield before her body, foot sliding behind her to brace herself against the impact of the spell as it connects, Graves unrelenting in his attack. Noticing that Newt and Credence have escaped she focuses solely on protecting herself as Graves continues to approach, wand slicing through the air, a number of spells being loosed from his wand.

 _Found himself a new one then._ She thinks, squinting her eyes at the wand in his hand in thought. Her shield holding against his constant barrage, eyes identifying a number of spells. Noting that many of which would be classified as dark spells, or grey at best. Surprisingly though, not a single unforgivable leaves his wand.

Now safely behind the pillar Newt attempts to fire back, but his efforts are easily deflected by Graves, his wand slashing through the air almost lazily as if swotting away an irritating bug.

"Hermione!" Newt shouts from behind her, his voice taking on a panicked edge, a hint of warning in his tone. Confused Hermione quickly risks being hit by Graves, glancing over her shoulder, noticing a pair of glaringly bright headlights, heading directly for her.

A train's quickly approaching, it's lights glaring from the darkness, headed directly for Hermione and Graves who still stand in the centre of the tracks, engaged in their one sided duel.

With a curse Hermione drops her shield, a colourful flash of light whizzing by her face, singing the ends of her hair. She Disapparates, her body twisting and turning through the air, the air sucked from her lungs just as the train slams into the place her body was standing only moments before.

Now safely behind the pillar beside Newt and Credence Hermione let's out a breath, her relief clear, a startled laugh falling from her lips as she looks to the two men before her, giving them each a small smile in turn. Both look at her wide eyed, completely baffled by the clearly insane woman before them.

* * *

 **Author Note** : The Silvernote: I quite liked the part from Queenie's POV as well. I'm thinking I may add the Queenie x Jacob pairing to the tag eventually. I think once their time in New York is over i'll be switching a bit more between POV's to keep up with everyone. They'll eventually end up together. Though I don't think any sort of relationship will be properly established between them (Hermione x Newt) for a while yet.

EliexChan: Ahhh the future question. That question is plaguing me. She's the catalyst so yes I believe much of the future will remain intact but she WILL have an effect on the timeline... how much? I'm not entirely sure yet but we'll see how it goes. And yes there will be two Hermione's in one time... not for a while yet but yes. Older Hermione will probably have to stay mostly hidden at that time I imagine but nothing's set in stone yet... Time is hella complicated and it's giving me no end of trouble but i'm just facing each issue as it comes up. Thank you for the kind words!

CalmDisposition: I can not wait to write more Queenie/ Hermione scenes! I already have a few in mind for later and i'm super excited! I thought about it early on but I just couldn't imagine Tina and Hermione as friends. Even if they aren't fighting over a man they're just too similar, yet very different... Queenie if definitely who she needs. Also about Newt. Yes. Despite her actions this chapter, she still hasn't just swept his actions under the rug... I think her trip through time is just finally catching up with her a bit, plus the adrenaline mixed with the strange magics is making her a bit wonky. There's certainly some attraction there between the two but they're still basically strangers, Hermione has some trust issues and there will be no declarations of undying love anytime soon between the two of them despite the weird magic between them and the scene this chapter. It's been satisfied but they aren't going to jump into bed with one another right away and declare their relationship status. Leta's coming up! Not exactly sure when but i'm already working on the plans to include her and her story for this time, i've been throwing some ideas around and hopefully i'll have something good to give you guys! Obviously i'm not J.K. But hopefully I can manage to make her an interesting character! Love long posts!

Twztdwildcat: Even if Credence still goes down the same path he did in the original film he didn't die. I'm making plans for him one way or another. Hopefully it all works out!

Silverwolfigther00: But the cliffhangers are such good ending points ;P

Niffler Nat: After reading your message I decided to retake the pottermore tests to see if my results changed... and oh boy did they. First time around (when she first released the Ilvermorny and Patronus quizzes) I was in Gryffindor and Thunderbird with a Tigress Patronus and a Larch wood wand with Dragon heartstring- 14". Second time I was in Ravenclaw and Horned Serpent with a Adder snake Patronus and a Holly wand with Phoenix feather- 13". Both answers make sense to me and whenever I take an online quiz my hogwarts house is always either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw... i've never wanted to be a hufflepuff so badly until after the film though and sadly that's the one house i've never gotten *cue ugly sobbing*

Pumpkinpiiekat: I've thought of that as well... it would be so cute! A girl can dream. Not sure how it will go in this story though... but I don't believe this will be the last Hermione and Newt see of Credence either way ;)

Devil Danielle Diaries: Look forward to the next chapter for the duel! Hopefully I don't dissapoint! I was going to do the duel this chapter but got a bit caught up in that kiss and such... next time though!


	17. Only the Beginning

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Here's another one for you guys! Luckily I had pretty much finished up this chapter when I posted #16 and I was able to find a new Beta rather quickly so here you go!

Thank you to Nyxie my new Beta who did a wonderful job editing through this chapter and dealing with my constant rambling these past few days! A fresh pair of eyes really does do wonders! All the thanks and a job well done!

Also thank you everyone for the kind words, continued interest and reviews! Really do love reading them all! Personal responses at the bottom as usual!

* * *

At the Subway stations entrance, Madam Picquery surveys the situation from under the magical force field.

Just outside the force field, a mass of Magicals and No-Maj alike swarm around the dome, their cries and chatter becoming louder as they stare at the magical bubble surrounding the subway. Reporters have now appeared, photographing the scene with an increased frenzy.

Shaw Sr. and Barker push their way through the crowds, coming to a stop just outside the magical barrier.

"That thing killed my son- I want Justice!" Shaw Sr. shouts to all those listening.

"I'll expose you for who you are and what you've done." He promises as Madam Picquery watches on, dread filling her person as she looks out into the gathering crowd.

* * *

With the train now gone, the two men continue to look at Hermione in shock, none of the trio notices Graves approaching, clearly having safely Apparated himself out of the train's path as well.

A spell flies between the tightly grouped trio, nearly smacking into Hermione's face. The three scramble back onto the tracks as Grave closes in, his face wild, frenzied.

Suddenly, Graves casts a spell that causes the train tracks to ripple, all the way down into the tunnel, blasting into Newt, catching him off guard before throwing him high into the air as a frightened, cowering Credence looks on.

"Newt!" Hermione shouts, fear gripping her as his body's dropped to the ground.

Newt lands hard on his back, a pained groan pulling from his lips. Graves lets out a cruel laugh, his expression looking almost bored as he continues to cast spells at Newt in a whiplike motion with increasing vigour. His immense power evident, Newt writhes on the ground, unable to stop it.

He seems to have forgotten about Hermione and Credence; the manic mask contorting his face in the most gruesome of ways as he sates his bloodlust.

* * *

Outside the station, the luminous wall of vibrating energy now flashes with the power of the magic it contains.

Langdon, drunk, stares enthralled and amazed with the spectacle.

"Look! Take photos!" Shaw Sr. shouts to the gathered photographers around him intent on capturing the moment on film, eager to obtain some form of proof.

* * *

Graves continues to whip Newt, the manic, crazed look never leaving his eyes

Hermione's magic flares, her wand growing hot in her hand as a raging inferno fills her to the brim. Her anger with the man masquerading as Graves reaching its precipice. Her magic begging to be released, an overwhelming urge to protect not only Newt but Credence as well filling her mind.

The memory of Voldemort and his followers toying with their prey before they delivered the finishing blow fills her mind, their crazed, twisted laughter taunting her.

"Avis," Hermione growls, moving her wand through the air in a V-like pattern, a blue jet of light leaving her wand before forming into a swarm of birds which she sets upon Graves.

"Really now Ms. Granger, is that the best you can do?" Graves asks, releasing the spell on Newt, quickly taking care of the pecking birds with a lazy wave of his wand.

Hermione let's out a sigh of relief, flickering her gaze quickly to Newt's hunched form, relieved to note that he's no longer in immediate danger with Graves's attention fully on her once more.

"Hardly" She scoffs, a wicked smile curving her lips as she conjures a number of bluebell flames about her person, a specialty of hers.

Graves watches, brow quirked as they dance around her, disbelief and a touch of amusement shaping his features.

With a flick of her hand the balls of blue flame shoot towards Graves, he easily dodges the majority of them, but a few manage to catch the edges of his overcoat. The hot blue flames quickly catch, spreading along the hem of the coat, flames licking the skin of his hands.

A curse falls from Graves' lips. He rips his coat off, distracted as Hermione glances once more at Newt who's pulling himself from the ground and onto his feet before sending her a quick look and rushing to check on Credence who stands a further down the tracks, shaking, loud sobs filling the air.

Hermione sends a final spell, causing an explosion beneath Graves' feet. He flies backward, rubble and debris cutting into his skin as he slams through the air.

Hermione turns and runs towards Newt and Credence. Newt's clutching his stomach, shaking slightly as his muscles spasm from the effects of the spell used only moments before as he attempts to soothe the young man before him.

Newt's murmured, soft spoken words of comfort don't seem to be registering in the young man's mind. Credence begins to shake, his face slowly turning black. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists, trying to suppress the kinetic mass threatening to overwhelm him from within.

Behind them, Graves groans, probably having already shaken off the effects of her low level attacks, used for little more than a distraction, her worry and concern for Newt and Credence clouding her judgment.

In a blink, Credence succumbs to the blackness — his body being enveloped and overcome- the Obscurus rising up above Hermione and Newt before blasting down the tunnel toward Graves.

Graves is mesmerized- he falls to his knees beneath the black mass- pleading in wonder.

"Credence." He breathes reverently.

The Obscurus lets out an unearthly scream and dives toward Graves, who Disapparates just in time. The Obscurus continues to blast around the tunnel, leaving only destruction in its wake.

Graves, Hermione and Newt Disapparate and Apparate around the subway tunnel trying to avoid the Obscurus's path, their combined efforts causing the station to disintegrate even faster. Suddenly the force accelerates, becoming a giant wave that consumes the entire space before flying through the roof.

* * *

Outside the station, the Obscurus crashes up through the pavement, watched by Wizards and No-Maj alike. It storms up a half-built skyscraper, windows shattering at every level, electric wiring exploding until it reaches the skeletal framework of the scaffolding above, which buckles perilously.

Below it, the crowd outside the magical barrier runs for cover, terrified.

The Obscurus forms a wide disc shape before plunging back down into the subway.

* * *

The Obscurus screams and dives, bursting through the subway roof.

Hermione and Newt are crouched below the dark mass with a shimmering blue barrier protecting them. Hermione takes stock of Newt's injuries, noticing how his muscles spasm slightly under his skin, the corners of his eyes pulled tight in pain. She smoothes a hand over his head, fingers running through his hair, humming quietly under her breath before looking to the side where Graves lies on the tracks, cowering beneath the dark force before once more looking up into the writhing black mass.

"Credence!" Hermione begins, voice strong and stern, a voice she often used to chastise Harry and Ron when they were attempting to do something particularly idiotic. "Stop this, now!"

Inches away from Graves's face, the Obscurus freezes. Slowly, very slowly, it rises back up, swirling more gently, staring at Hermione who now stands beside Newt, the shield dropped.

Hermione steps forward, eyes never once leaving the spot where Credence's face occasionally appears as Newt takes a deep breath, getting to his feet behind her once more.

"It's Credence, isn't it?" Hermione asks, voice softer now but still easily heard in the cavernous, ruined tunnel. "I need you to calm down Credence, Newt and I— we're not here to hurt you. I can't claim to know much about you, but I've met others like you. You don't need to do this, your magic doesn't need to control you—"

"He's listening." Newt stands behind her. His voice quiet and filled with wonder, wide blue eyes flickering between the swirling mass above and Hermione's back, marvelling once more at the mysterious and unpredictable woman before him.

Covered in sweat, grime, and debris, her hair a completely wild mess. Her clothing torn and ruined, he can't help but admire her.

"We can help you, Credence. You can learn to control the magic inside of you." Hermione takes a breath, a wistful expression falling across her face. "I understand what it's like to feel as though you don't belong, to feel like everything's out of control and the entire world's against you. Though I can't claim to have experienced all that you have, I can say that I've experienced the hatred and prejudice that some wizards and witches have against those they believe to be below them. You're lost, searching for a place to belong — I am too. I don't belong either. I've never _truly_ belonged."

Newt looks beyond Hermione to Graves who still lays on the tracks. His brows furrow as he takes in Graves's expression, taking a moment to truly study the man, thinking back on Hermione's earlier suspicions regarding the man in question.

Graves expression is curious and intrigued. He looks between Hermione and Credence, his current irritation with the woman seemingly pushed to the side, looking at her as though she's a puzzle he desires to solve. An uneasy feeling begins to fill Newt as he takes in the other man, anxiety filling his chest.

"You're afraid, so very scared— but Credence, don't allow your fear to control you, don't allow those who have wronged you to win. One day, perhaps, after this is all over, I'd like to tell you the story of a boy, a boy I believe to be so very similar to yourself. He grew up in a home similar to your own. His guardians hated magic. They hated him and lied to him about his parents and the existence of magic." A small laugh falls from Hermione's lips, unshed tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "That boy would later become my very best friend, a hero, the boy who lived and the saviour of the wizarding world. He would have loved to meet you, Credence. I honestly believe that. I also believe that you can be like him. Y-You can be a hero Credence. You can prove to all those that have hurt you wrong, be more than them. Don't let their fear and hatred define you. Carve a path of your own. Let us help you, Credence. Please."

Newt's breath catches, the sense of foreboding begins to overwhelm him. His eyes darts from Hermione and Credence to Graves. Whoever that man may be, Newt has the distinct feeling that gaining his attention is a terrible idea, and unfortunately, Hermione seems to have done just that from the very moment they met... that woman. She just can't help but leave an impression he thinks. The corners of his lips curved into a small smile as he climbs to his feet once more.

Hermione's eyes flicker to Graves, taking note of the man as he stands, anger and disgust filling her eyes as she gazes upon the man before looking at Credence once more.

"This man, he's using you Credence," She begins. "He wishes to use you, to mould you into a weapon for his own selfish needs, whatever they may be."

"Don't listen to her, Credence. I want you to be free. It's all right." Graves tries, attempting to fall into the role of comforting parent once more, but fails.

"That's it… you're in control Credence." Hermione soothes her eyes once more on the Obscurial, calming him.

The Obscurus begins to shrink. Its face becoming more and more human, Credence's features coming into focus.

A wave of Aurors pours down the steps of the subway and into the tunnel. Another wave advances from behind Hermione and Newt, their wands raised aggressively.

 _Bugger._ Hermione curses mentally, head swivelling to focus momentarily on the crowd of approaching Aurors, biting hard on her lip.

"Shhh!" She hisses at the assembled group. "You'll frighten him." Her words seem to fall on deaf ears, the Aurors paying her little mind.

The Obscurus let's out a terrible moan and begins to swell again. The station is crumbling. Both Newt and Hermione start, moving about in an attempt to protect Credence, wands raised, once more facing off against unfavourable odds.

 _No. No. No._ Hermione chants in her mind. _He was nearly calm—_

Behind the pair, Graves spins to face the Auror's, wand at the ready.

"Wands down! Anyone harms him - they'll answer to me -" Graves begins, barking orders at the assembled group before turning to Credence. "Credence!"

Panic and worry grip Hermione as the Aurors begin pelting the Obscurus with spells.

 _Wizards._ She thinks with a derisive tone, fingers tightening around her wand.

"NO!" Graves shouts as Credence's face, from within the black mass begins to contort, pained screams filling the air around them.

The barrage of spell continues and Credence howls in pain.

A snarl pulls from Hermione's lips, and she flicks her wand in a series of motions, beginning to weave a spell.

* * *

The magical force field surrounding the subway breaks down as people continue to flee the scene. Only Shaw Sr. and Langdon stand steadfast, captivated.

* * *

Aurors continue to aim spells at the Obscurus, their efforts unrelenting and brutal as Hermione continues to weave her spell, wisps of blue and white light weaving together and glowing before her, murmuring quietly under her breath as Newt continues to look at Credence, a horrified expression on his face.

Under the pressure of the unrelenting stream of spells, the Obscurus finally seems to implode. A white ball of magical light consumes the black mass. Hermione looks to the cloud, mouth falling open in shock, words dying on her lips, the spell she was weaving dispersing as if blown away by a gust of wind.

 _I was too late._ Hermione thinks in a small voice as suddenly, the force of the charge sends Hermione, Newt and the Aurors stumbling backward.

Magic dwindles and wanes, only small tatters of black matter are left floating through the air like feathers.

 _Always too late._ A strangled cry tears from Hermione's lips, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, pain gripping her chest and strangles her. The cascading turmoil of her growing emotions fills her to the brim. Newt gets back to his feet, his face racked with deeply felt guilt.

Graves climbs up, back onto the platform, as close as possible to the remnants of the black mass.

The Aurors advance towards Graves.

"You fools. Do you realize what you've done?" Graves seethes, his anger unmistakable, expression contorted with fury as the others watch him with interest.

Hermione watches from the tracks with furrowed brows, wand still held tight in hand as Madam Picquery emerges from behind the Aurors.

"The Obscurial was killed on my orders, Mr. Graves." She informs the fuming man, her tone steely, questioning.

Hermione can't seem to clamp down on the feelings of anger that begin to swell within her once more. Great disappointment consuming her, directed at all those present, but a fair amount at herself.

"Yes. And history will surely note that, Madam President." Graves intones, moving towards her along the platform, his tone threatening.

 _Not the time. Mourn later— Blame yourself later..._ Hermione thinks and takes a deep calming breath. She clamps down on her building resentment and feelings of personal failure. Worried brown eyes flicker to Newt before focusing on the drama unfolding before her, feet quietly carrying her towards the platform, wand raised slightly.

"What was done here tonight was not right!" Graves shouts.

Hermione's lips pull in a tight line, teeth grinding against one another. She can't help but agree with the man. As much as she may dislike and distrust him, he speaks nothing but the truth at this moment.

"He was responsible for the death of a No-Maj. He risked the exposure of our community. He has broken one of our most sacred laws—" Madame Picquery argues before being unceremoniously cut off by Graves as a bitter laugh falls from his lips.

"A law that has us scuttling like rats in the gutter! A law that demands that we conceal our true nature! A law that directs those under its dominion to cower in fear lest we risk discovery! I ask you, Madam President—" His eyes flashing to all those present. "I ask all of you - who does this law protect? Us?" He moves his hand, gesturing to the No-Majs above. "Or them?" A bitter smile pulls at his lips now. "I refuse to bow down any longer."

With those final words, Graves walks away from the Aurors, eyes flickering towards Hermione and Newt, the bitter smile falling from his lips, his anger palpable.

"Aurors, I'd like you to relieve Mr. Graves of his wand and escort him back to—" Madam Picquery begins, speaking to the Aurors flanking her.

As Graves moves down the platform, a wall of light suddenly appears in front of him, blocking his path.

Graves seems to think for a moment- a sneer of derision and irritation crossing his face. He turns.

An alarm sounds in Hermione's head, adrenaline filling her veins once more, pushing her to act, warning her of the danger to come as Graves begins to stride confidently back along the platform towards Madam Picquery and the waiting Aurors.

With little thought, Hermione flicks her wand, murmuring a spell quietly under her breath, a variation of a shield charm, one that needs little effort and power to hold, but would be capable of protecting those assembled there from a variety of spells. Madam Picquery and the assembled Aurors looking at her in shock as a shimmering blue dome, reminiscent of the one she used in the Pentagram Office descends around them, protecting them as the first of Graves's spells is loosed.

 _That should hold for a bit._ Hermione thinks meeting the furious brown eyes of Madam Picquery, taking note of the hint of curiosity in her gaze.

The formidable woman seeming to contemplate Hermione and her actions. Hermione takes note of how she's managed to catch the unwanted attention of yet another powerful player, storing the thought and worry for later, relieved to have momentarily protected the Aurors and drawn Graves attention to herself.

 _You're mad._ She thinks, a hysterical giggle building within her chest at her actions, her eyes darting to Graves who has halted his approach before turning quickly to face Newt.

"Are you mad-" Newt begins a few feet away, his own words mimicking her unvoiced thoughts from only moments before.

A startled laugh escapes her mouth than as she rushes towards him, reaching into her bag, rifling around momentarily before pulling a small item from its depths. Grabbing one of his hands in her own, pressing a small, smooth stone in the palm of his hand before murmuring a quiet spell under her breath.

"I'm sorry," Hermione says meeting his curious blue eyes, guilty as she presses her hand more firmly over his own, the stone warming against her skin as she activates it's protections, quickly stepping back just as a shimmering silver dome descends over Newt's form.

 _I need him safe._ She thinks biting hard on her lip as the shield locks in place around Newt.

The Shield Stone, a small stone enchanted with a variation of the shield charm, combined with some defensive runes. When George was finally able to resume inventing, they came up with the idea. The inspiration came from the pre-existing and wildly popular shield hats, gloves and cloaks sold by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

One might wonder why they would be creating such defensive inventions in the wake of the war, during a time of peace in Wizarding Britain? The answer was simple really. Despite the tentative peace people were still worried. Britain didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to Dark Wizards and terror organizations, the fact that many were very much aware of. People were worried, scared and mourning. Many desired a way to protect themselves and their loved ones from any threat that could arise. Perhaps they were overly cautious, but what better way to put people at ease than to provide them with an easy to store item capable of protecting those who were unable to do so themselves.

Their target audience was families, those who desperately had those they wished to protect. It could be used on children, squibs or even muggles. It was magic that could be used by all regardless of magical strength. Of course, a capable witch or wizard was needed to activate the Shield Stone. All it took was a quick sticking charm and a zap of magic to activate its defences. Once activated a glowing silver dome, reminiscent of the Protego Maxima would descend around the person touching the stone, protecting them from a variety of spells and hexes. The sticking charm necessary to maintain skin contact with the stone, contact vital for the magic to be held in place.

Of course, there were ways for a competent wizard to break the shield from within. All it would take was for them to overload the magical capacity of the stone, wait it out since it did indeed have a time limit or simply unstick the stone from their skin. The invention was made to protect those who were unable to defend themselves, not fully grown, competent wizards. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Newt would quickly figure out how to free himself from his protective bubble, but for now, it bought her time while she distracted the man pretending to be Graves.

 _Doubt he'll be all that happy with me once he escapes the barrier._ Hermione thinks with a slight wince, looking to Newt one final time. Now separated by the shimmering silver barrier she can't hear whatever Newt's shouting from within the protective bubble, but the shock and disbelief are clear on his face. He watches the time traveller turn back to Graves before shoving a hand back into her trusty leather purse. She rummages around for a few quick seconds, then draws a thin piece of wood from her bag.

 _Hmmm._ Hermione muses as her hand connects with the smooth black wood of Percival Graves's stolen wand. It isn't a perfect fit, but her magic readily responds. Her own wand held tight in one hand, raised, steady and confident, ready to strike at moments notice she holds up his wand, turning it about in her hand.

"I believe I have something of yours, Mr. Graves. That is if you're still set on pretending to be the man you're currently claiming to be." She begins, voice taunting, a thrill of excitement running through her. "Oh - You never did tell me just _who_ you truly are - Mind you, I have a few ideas myself. Tell me, does the name _Ariana_ mean anything to you? Oh my, one does wonder how you came to know so very much about Obscurial… you appear to be far more knowledgeable than the average wizard. Silly me, though, perhaps Albu—"

Suddenly, a low, vibrating growl tears from Graves' lips as he spins about, firing a tirade of spells at Hermione which she deflects easily, using Graves's very own wand.

* * *

"Honestly, and I'm the foolish one," Newt says with a sigh, running his free hand over his face in frustration. His guilt eating away at him as he remembers the look on Credence's face as the Aurors obliterated him.

 _I am- I could have saved him- I should have..._ He thinks, his guilt consuming him.

 _Not the time._ He reasons mentally as he looks to the duel beginning just outside the protective silver dome.

"Just what is this thing…" He muses, holding his outstretched hand before him, palm up, focusing on the smooth black stone firmly held in place.

He shakes his hand as if attempting to shake the stone free.

"Of course it wouldn't be that simple." He muses; scientific curiosity roused as he tugs at the stone with calloused fingers. The stone remains stuck and unmoving.

A bright blue spell collides with the barrier, a boom filling his ears as the two forms of magic meet.

A startled noise falls from his lips as the duel rages on. He sighs, mind working hard to solve the riddle of the mysterious black stone currently holding him in place. But worried blue eyes constantly being drawn to the mysterious woman he's recently come to care for.

A silent prayer for her safety flits through his hectic mind.

* * *

Hermione stows Graves' wand back in her bag before fluidly sliding into a duelling position, one foot behind her to brace herself against his attacks, wand held in front of her at the ready.

 _I probably shouldn't be provoking a clearly dangerous wizard- even more so if he's actually the man I believe him to be..._ She thinks with a soft sigh.

Graves advances on her, stride quick, long legs covering the distance between them with ease.

"Insolent woman!" Graves shouts as he continues to fire spell after spell in her direction. Hermione falls back on the defensive, spells bombarding her at a dizzying speed, alternating between physically dodging and using low level shields to protect herself.

"I'm curious, though — just how did you—" Hermione's speech is momentarily paused as a particularly powerful spell crashes into one of her shields. Her body strains against the force; foot sliding further back, digging into the ground. Seeing no other way around it, Hermione begins to cast a series of offensive, non-verbal spells, desperate to say her final piece.

"Just how - did you manage it? How—" She grunts as she's pushed back, conjuring the bluebell flames around her once more with a lazy flick of her wand before sending them in his direction. He easily disperses them.

 _Not falling for that one again then..._ She groans mentally focusing once more on the task at hand.

"How — has nobody noticed? How were you able to masquerade as Percival Graves for so very long." Gasps and murmurs erupt from the crowd of protected Aurors.

 _The shield's beginning to fail._ Hermione quickly glances to the assembled crowd, taking note of how they seem to be steadily chipping away at her wards. A frustrated growl escapes her lips.

"Hmm, do you really wish to play this game, Ms. Granger?" Graves taunts, looking to be far less exhausted than Hermione.

 _Well, he isn't trying to hold a large shield charm, defend himself and attack._ She reasons. His words catch the attention of Madame Picquery who was barking orders to the Aurors only moments before. Her curious eyes falling on the duelling pair, mouth pulled tight in thought.

"Hermione Jean Granger, just who are you? An agent for Grindelwald perhaps?" He croons a vicious smile on his face, aware of the attention they've drawn.

"Hardly." She scoffs. "Impedimenta! Diffindo!" the jinx misses, ricocheting off the ground and into the ceiling, but her severing charm grazes the side of his face, a thin line of blood blooming on his cheek, he winces but seems otherwise unaffected. "Can't say I have any desire to follow some trumped up wannabe Dark Lord, with a superiority complex, who moans on and on about the 'Greater Good'."

From within his protective bubble, Newt gasps and his eyes widen in recognition as Hermione's words sink in.

Graves quirks a brow, clearly amused by her words.

Hermione can feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. With an irritated groan, she draws back her wand before brandishing it like a whip, manifesting a long thin trail of flame. Bathed in an eerie blue glow, the bluebell flame soars from the tip, wrapping itself around Graves. Triumph builds in Hermione's tired eyes but vanishes just as quickly when Grave chuckles, ignoring the flames consuming his clothes.

"That's quite a repertoire of spells you've got there, Ms. Granger. You appear particularly skilled with fire-based spells. These bluebell flames, in particular, seem to be a favourite of yours." He begins taunting, a thoughtful and amused expression on his face as he brushes against one of the thin flames tightly wrapped about his body. The smell of burning flesh filling the air. "You're able to think fast on your feet. I like that in a person. You've proven yourself to be an extremely competent and powerful witch. Actually, you've more than just proven, there's no need for us to fight. I noticed your expression when they obliterated Credence. I could practically feel the disgust rolling off you in waves. You and I, we're alike—" He says as he waves his wand over the whip-like flames encasing his body, effortlessly undoing her spell as he takes another step in her direction, uncaring of his ruined clothing and wounded skin.

Hermione sends off a scorching hex, her irritation with the man before her growing, a sliver of fear pricking her senses. A growl pulling from her lips as he defends himself once more, the signs of her own fatigue becoming more and more evident.

 _He's incredibly powerful._ She thinks, breath coming out in ragged gasps, heart beating a wild rhythm within her chest.

 _It hurts to breathe._ She cries out in her mind, eyes pulling tight, lungs struggling to take in the oxygen needed.

"We're nothing alike! Men like you—" She growls, her anger and fatigue getting the best of her, actions becoming sloppy.

Hermione jolts when Grave silently disarms her. She stares helplessly at her wand now in his hand.

He gives her a cruel smile full of teeth, looking more beast than man as he approaches the now helpless woman. Hermione stumbles back in an attempt to flee, her mind screaming, berating herself. Graves closes the distance between them, clamping a large hand around her upper arm and pulls her to close. Their bodies pressed tight, flush against one another.

 _A lover's embrace._ His other hand comes to rest on her chin, applying pressure, tilting it up, causing a small sound of pain to fall from her lips as his nails dig into the tender flesh of her jaw.

Percival Graves' handsome features twist and contort inches away, that cruel smile of his never leaving.

Hermione can't help but compare their embrace to those shared with Newt. There's no tenderness here despite appearances. His fingers dig into the skin of her face, hand clamping her arm painfully in place undoubtedly leaving bruises. Though it may appear to all those assembled as a lover's embrace, it is anything but as Graves leans in close, burying his nose in her hair.

Heart beating rapidly and unsteady against her chest, breathing ragged. Precious oxygen is sucked through her mouth, saturating her deoxygenated, overworked lungs. Merlin, her legs were jelly. The witch is moments away from collapsing and flinches as his breath caresses her ear

"Potions I've never heard of, torn clothes and the broken, warped remains or some sort of metal device and this—" He begins, quietly whispering in her ear, their conversation unheard by all those present.

His hand moves from her arm, pressing firmly against her chest, the feeling of a wand digging into her skin. He moves back slightly, allowing her to lower her gaze. Hermione's eyes widen, a curse falling from her lips as she finally gets a good look at his replacement wand.

* * *

Newt curses under his breath, actions more hurried now. His irritation and worry for the woman now held tight within the imposter's arms battling it out within his mind. He throws a particularly strong spell at the shield, cursing again when the spell ricochets, bouncing around within the protective bubble as he crouches, arms over his head before the spell disperses.

* * *

The curved, walnut wand, so very reminiscent of its original owner's personality and preferred magics.

 _12¾ ". Walnut wood. Dragon heartstring core. Unyielding._ Hermione thinks, memories swimming to the surface as she tilts her chin up, she looks back defiantly ignoring her exhaustion and building fear, feeling particularly bold and reckless as their eyes meet, uncaring of what a Legilimens like himself may glean from her thoughts.

In his hands Graves holds the very wand that tortured her, a wand that had taken and ruined so many lives, the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

 _Dumbledore… Lestrange… It always comes back to them._ She thinks with no small amount of irritation as the world seems to fall away around them, her memories swirl up a storm; the sounds, smells and visions of days that have yet to come filling her mind.

 _Hermione lays on the harsh ground of the Death Chamber. Her shirt completely drenched in blood from her encounter with Dolohov. She struggles to remain awake; her eyes begging to close as severe blood loss begins to take its toll._

 _Drained, she lifts her hand to her face, taking note of the way the dark red blood seems to paint her hand in the most macabre of pictures._

 _No different than any others. She thinks, her thoughts, a quiet whisper in the back of her mind, she barely registers the chaos of the battle going on around her. Between her parted, blood covered fingers, her blurry brown eyes focus on the frenzied duel taking place in front of the rippling black Veil._

 _The sound of rushing blood muffling out any words spoken. Only snippets of Bellatrix Lestrange's mad, cackling laughter and eerie, nonsensical voice's coming from within the Veil registering in her mind_.

"Lestrange—" Graves muses, a curious expression on his face. Hermione's body still held tight against his own.

* * *

Newt freezes, wand pointed at the stone secured in his palm, a spell dying on his lips as the single spoken word fills the air around him.

A shot of anxiety tickles his senses, the very name he knows so very well once again being spoken in relation to Hermione's memories.

 _A Legilimens._ He thinks, recalling his previous conversation with Hermione.

Panic grips him, mouth as dry as the Sahara, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess as his heart rate increases. He murmurs another spell in an attempt to unstick the stone from his hand. Cursing as the stone remains secured to his palm.

"Bugger." He says with a shake of his head, lips pulling into a thin line as he begins to feed magic into the stone in an attempt to overload the magics held within.

* * *

 _The cackling is all she can hear as exhaustion consumes her, the struggle to keep her eyes open became harder as she looks through her parted fingers, fighting to focus on the duelling forms of Sirius and Bellatrix. The mad cackling woman seems to be winning as Sirius is pushed further back, ever closer to the rippling blackness of the veil._

 _Hermione attempts to scream a warning, her mouth opening and closing, the words unwilling and unable to leave her mouth._

 _Bellatrix's wand fires one last spell, it connects with Sirius' form, knocking him back into the Veil, Hermione's eyes slide shut, unable to fight the exhaustion and blood loss any longer. The inky darkness of the Veil wrapping around Sirius's body, cradling him in its embrace, gently drawing him into the black void. The last thing hears before she loses consciousness is a heart rending scream and the sounds of the battle beginning to filter back through her senses._

* * *

Entirely focused on the task, Newt continues to feed power into the stone with renewed vigour. Desperate to save the woman he's come to care for. Terrified and worried about what Graves may be seeing in her mind. Well aware that her mind is a very dangerous place, containing the most sensitive information. Information, that in the wrong hands, could change the very future.

The stone timidly grows hot, a smile beams across his face. The magizoologist continues to hold his wand above the stone, hand steady, breathing deeply through his nose.

* * *

 _Sirius._ Hermione thinks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as Graves continues to hold her, gazing into her eyes with the most curious expression.

 _'It's a copy! It's a—' A younger Hermione screams as the mad woman presses her face deeper into the cold marble floor, steadily carving the crude slur into her arm._

Graves quirks a brow once more. Hermione bites down on her lip, hard, teeth breaking the tender flesh there, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth as she focuses on the pain in an attempt to distract herself from the memories of her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, unwilling to take that particular trip down memory lane once again.

 _The scene changes once more._

 _Hermione throws her head back, drinking the entire contents of the potion in one go. She winces as her skin begins to bubble and ripple, watching in the mirror as her appearance changes._

 _Wild brown hair, growing darker from the roots down, the texture and style so very similar to her own. Sickly pale skin lightening, even more, brown eyes darkening, her features quickly being replaced by those of Bellatrix Lestrange._

 _Her chest and hips filling out more, long claw-like nails digging into the borrowed skin as anxiety grips her, feeling as though a hand is squeezing tight around her windpipe. The torture she had endured only a few days ago were still fresh and present in her mind. Her current form threatening to send her back to that night. She looks at her arm, unravelling the bandages there; the crudely carved slur now gone, in its place a copy of the Dark Mark sits, inactive, a fake, but unsettling all the same._

 _Hermione looks to the curved wand sitting atop the dresser, the insecure and worried expression on her face looking entirely out of place on Bellatrix's features. She reaches out, fingers wrapping around the walnut wood wand, her magic singing as the darker magic within caresses the edge of her senses, breath catching, as her fear begins to escalate._

"You seem to have a knack for wand theft." Graves chuckles, uncaring of the young woman's distress. "The potions, the twisted metal remains, the ruined clothes and this wand." He continues, tapping the wand against her chest. "They were all I could find in that bag of yours. I could sense the protections you put in place, but I had trouble identifying and breaking them down before interrogating you and Mr. Scamander. You are a powerful Witch, Ms. Granger. A woman with many secrets." He leans in close once more, hot breath caressing the sensitive skin of her ear. "I'd love to dig around in that head of yours."

Graves steps back slightly. Hermione takes a deep shuddering breath, relieved by the minute distance now between them.

"Hermione!" Newt's voice suddenly fills the space around them. His voice echoes off the cavernous tunnel and gains everyone's attention. With a shuddering whine, the shields protecting both Newt and the Aurors shudder and falter before dispersing completely. The stone within Newt's hand exploding in a cloud of shimmering black dust. Graves looks to Newt.

 _That's it._ Hermione thinks shaking off the painful memories still threatening to consume her, noticing the opening provided to her and their close proximity. The Aurors heads towards the trio as Hermione lashes out. Turning to more physical means, her fist smashes into his jaw just as Newt slashes his wand through the air.

 _He's been holding back._ Hermione thinks with a satisfied smirk as a crackling rope of supernatural light flies from Newts wand and wraps itself around Graves like a whip. Injured and now bleeding from his nose, Graves tries to hold it off as it tightens, but staggers and falls to his knees, dropping the two wands held in his hand.

Hermione strides towards the kneeling man, crouching before him with a cruel smirk of her own. Unable to stop herself from taunting the man once more.

"You won't have the chance." She says, picking up the wands, and discreetly slipping Bellatrix's back into her bag, unaware of Newts eyes following her every move. He'd heard almost every word of their exchange. Questions upon questions fill his mind.

Graves' lips pull back in a snarl as Hermione stands and retreats, his eyes dart everywhere, hatred in his gaze.

Newt advances, coming to a stop beside Hermione, raising his wand once more.

"Revelio."

Graves transforms. He is no longer dark, but blond with mismatching eyes, one dark, and the other light. Hermione's suspicions are confirmed, a low groan falling from her mouth as she staggers, leaning against Newt for support.

He is the man on the poster. A murmur spreads through the crowd: Grindelwald.

 _Oh gods, I punched Grindelwald - twice-_ Hermione thinks, her previous pride and triumph replaced by horror. Newt's free arm wraps around her waist, holding her steady as her vision swims.

"Do you think you can hold me?" Graves suddenly asks, eyes falling on Madam Picquery, voice filled with contempt.

"We'll do our best, Mr. Grindelwald."

Grindelwad continues to stare intently at Madam Picquery, his expression of disgust turning into a small, derisory smile. He is forced to his feet by two Aurors, who move him towards the entrance of the subway.

As Grindelwald reaches Hermione and Newt, he pauses-both smiling and sneering.

"Will we die, just a little?" He begins looking to Newt before his eyes flicker to Hermione one final time. "I look forward to our next meeting, Ms. Granger. Do think on what I've said."

Anxiety fills her person at his parting words as he's led away, up and out of the subway. Newt and Hermione watch on, neither appearing to be comforted by this turn of events and his promise of a future meeting.

 _It's only the beginning._ She thinks as her vision begins to swim, legs finally giving out as Newt catches her in his arms, the sound of shouting filling her senses.

 _Laughter._ Hermione muses, struggling to retain her senses, held in Newt's tight embrace, balancing on the edge of consciousness as mocking laughter fills her mind once more.

The mad cackles of Bellatrix Lestrange are no longer alone, a clearly masculine voice joining her continuous stream of laughter. Their combined voices drowning out the sounds of Newt and the Aurors around her. Taunting, mocking, teasing her...

 _Only the beginning..._ She thinks one final time, mind falling blissfully silent as her eyes flutter shut.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** EliexChan: _Sigh_ the amount of stuff those two need to talk about is ridiculous... Pshhh I imagine Tina will be somewhat irritated that Hermione was right. Spoilers! You'll have to wait and see what the Prophecy says! Yeahhhh the Timeline stuff is a headache... It's my own fault for going into it and now I have to deal with all the issues that arise. What can you do...

Silverwolfigther00: Ahaha no worries as a reader cliff hangers really frustrate me as well! Even more so when a story hasn't been updated in ages but rest assured I have no plans of leaving you hanging forever! The story will continue! Spoilers!

Bleeb90 & MiladyTairiell: I think we're all in agreement here that Harry Potter is a sarcastic little s**t! And I mean that in the best way possible. That being said Hermione's the narrator here and she may not always be the most reliable of narrators at times. Just because she perceives something to be a certain way doesn't necessarily mean that what she saw and what actually happened are how things truly went down.

Nostalgiakills: Tell me about it! _Long Suffering Sigh..._ Glad you liked the chapter though!

Niffler Nat: Oh god yes! Newt's actor is indeed a hottie! Ahhh yes, there's a bond of sorts for sure but yeah those two most definitely are not in love atm. Attracted to one another? Sure thing! Care for one another? Sure! But love? No way! They're still virtually strangers and one hot kiss isn't going to magically change that even if it was full of crazy ancient magics! Also happy-go-lucky... yeah not likely. But yes yes! Fates now intertwined, Hermione's anchored, something of a bond there, and everything's about to get even messier I imagine with the timeline, prophecies, etc... Thank you very much for that reminder! Those seriously are good things to remember and things that i'm constantly trying to keep in mind!

Hmmmm hmmm I want to say Hermione/Cedric because i'm personally a fan of any rare pair story I can get my hands on but I also can't say i've found too many interesting Hermione/Cedric stories, though admittedly I haven't looked much. My favourite super odd and rare pairings that i've stumbled across were a really good story for Hermione/Neville and another for Hermione/Percy... got a thing for a guy in glasses. I wouldn't mind... maybe trying to write one of those at a later date but who knows! Anywho! Sorry I rambled! Thanks for the message! Love reading your reviews!

JoWashington: Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers! But yeah as for Credence... sorry... But I was planning for his fate to be the same the entire time... mind you he will be making an appearance again so don't be too bummed about his fate here!

Ndavis77: Sincerely hope you catch my DW references every single time!


	18. The Next Great Adventure

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** As you read through this chapter, worry not! Queenie, Jacob and the Bakery scene will be included, but because of the somewhat darker tone the end of this chapter takes it seemed a bit awkward to put it here... not to mention the bakery scene happens 3 months after Newt and Hermione leave. So it'll be a better fit for the next chapter. I know much of the chapter is the same as the film but from this point forward (aside from the Bakery scene) it's all new!

On to more important matters of Business. We're about to introduce some new characters... that should be fun... If I introduce any characters that will be at least somewhat important but don't currently have a cannon appearance i'll also provide you guys with an actor or actress as reference so you know who i'm roughly imagining while writing. That doesn't exactly mean that i'm basing the entire character off of that actor/ actress but I find it a bit easier to at least have some sort of reference when imagining facial expressions and such... sooo whenever someone new is added i'll provide that at the bottom so I don't spoil you all!

Right. Well. As also thank you for all of the reviews and messages! Love them and love you all and your continued interest in this story!

Thank you to Nyxie who's continuing to throw ideas around with me and just generally being an awesome beta! Catching all those mistakes!

Personal responses at the bottom. Let's get to it!

* * *

Queenie, Jacob and a now healed and somewhat irritated-looking Tina, pushes their way to the front of the Aurors, Jacob holding Newt's case tight in hand.

Queenie rushes forward, pulling a conscious, but still thoroughly exhausted Hermione into a tight hug, tears filling her eyes. A surge of emotions rush over Hermione, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she wraps her shaking arms around Queenie's form, holding the other woman close. Comforted by the tight embrace. A sigh of relief escapes her lips.

"Oh honey, I-I'm so glad you're okay." The young blond woman chokes, grabbing Hermione's face in her hands, looking her over as though checking for injuries. The pair shares an emotional look.

Behind them Tina smoothly slips back into Auror mode and manages to get a full report of the evening's events from one of the rookies.

Newt stares at Jacob.

"Hey... I figured somebody oughta keep an eye on this thing." Jacob begins, a small smile on his face as he hands Newt his case.

"Thank you," Newt replies, tone humble and utterly grateful, he accepts the proffered case.

Madam Picquery addresses the group as she stares through the broken roof of the subway station, into the world outside.

"We owe you an apology, Mr. Scamander, Ms. Granger." Her curious and questioning eyes falls on Hermione's form. Seeing this, Queen subtly moves to stand in front of her with a steel glint in her eyes. "But the magical community is exposed! We cannot Obliviate an entire city."

There's a beat as her statement sinks in.

Newt follows Madam Pizquery's gaze. His fingers intertwine with Hermione's and gives her hand a firm squeeze. Hermione looks to Newt in question, the spark of curiosity ever present in her exhausted brown eyes, she notices his attention elsewhere. She follows his gaze, the pair watches as a tendril of black matter — a small part of the Obscurus — floats down through the roof. Unnoticed by anyone else, it eventually floats up and away, trying to reconnect with its host.

A joyous sound slips past Hermione's lips drawing Queenie, Newt and Jacob's attention. She and Newt share a relieved smile before his attention snaps back to the problem at hand, their fingers still entwined, a comforting presence despite all that had happened here today.

"Actually, I think we can." Newt begins, earning himself curious gazes from all those assembled.

* * *

Hermione stands between Queenie and Jacob, leaning into the tall, blonde woman for support and comfort, watching as Newt places his case wide-open underneath the huge hole in the subway roof.

The assembled crowd watches on with bated breath, unsure of what the curious man intends to do. The Thunderbird bursts forth in a flurry of feathers and gushes of gold and silver wind. The throng of Aurors backs away, Hermione and the others staying firmly in place. Their eyes spellbound at the stunning display, admiring the beautiful and powerful creature.

The creature is beautiful, a fact that no one can deny, mesmerizing but frightening, as he flaps his mighty wings and hovers above them.

Newt moves forward, examining Frank. A look of real tenderness and pride appears on his face.

"I was intending to wait until we got to Arizona, but it seems like now you are our only hope, Frank," Newt says, the two sharing a look between them, understanding.

Newt reaches out his arm, and Frank presses his beak lovingly into his embrace. They nuzzle each other affectionately, and Hermione can't stem the tears beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes at the tender display of affections, her hand sliding into Queenie's. The pair shares another emotional gaze, neither unaffected. They understand the emotional response of one another entirely.

The assembled group of Aurors watches in awe.

"I'll miss you too," Newt says with a small, sad smile before stepping back, taking the flask of the Swooping Evil's venom from his pocket.

"You know what you've got to do." Newt throws the vial high up into the air. Frank lets out a sharp cry, catching it in his beak and immediately soars out of the subway, wings spread, his cries filling the air around them.

* * *

Dawn is just beginning to break, outside of the Subway station as No-Majs and Aurors alike shriek and recoil at the sight of the majestic Thunderbird bursting forth from the subway, the majestic beast gliding into the dawn-lit sky.

The Thunderbird rises higher and higher into the air. His wings flap harder, faster, storm clouds congregate. Lightning flashes. The Thunderbird spirals further upward, twisting and turning, leaving New York and the chaos of the previous night lying far below.

Frank clutches the vital of Swooping Evil's venom tightly, until finally, it succumbs to the pressure, crushing between the Thunderbirds strong beak. The powerful venom spreads through the thick rain, enchanting it, thickening it. The darkening sky flashes a brilliant blue and rain begins to fall.

* * *

The people of New York look up into the sky as the rain begins to fall, hitting them. A wave of tranquility washes over them, shaking off the haze, they carry on as their bad memories wash away. Everyone going about their daily business as though nothing unusual has happened.

Aurors move through the streets, performing Repairing Charms to rebuild the City: reconstructing the buildings and cars and within moments, the streets return to normal.

Langdon stands in the rain, his expression softening, eyes growing blank as the raindrops run over his face.

The police look at their guns, confused. Why do they have them drawn? They slowly gather themselves and holster their weapons away.

Inside a small family home, a young mother looks on fondly at her family. As she takes a sip of water, her expression becomes blank.

The Aurors continue to repair the streets, swiftly reassembling broken tram tracks, erasing all traces of destruction left over from the previous night's events. One Auror passes a newsstand, enchants the papers, removing Newt's, Hermione's and Tina's mug shots and replacing them with banal headlines about the weather.

Mr. Bingley, the bank manager, stands in his bathroom taking a shower. As the water trickles over him, he too is Obliviated. We see Bingley's wife, brushing her teeth, her expression vacant, carefree.

The Thunderbird continues to soar through the streets of New York, churning up more and more rain as he goes, his feathers shimmering a brilliant gold. Finally, he glides into the breaking New York dawn, a magnificent sight unnoticed by much of the world below.

* * *

Underground, Madam Picquery looks on as the roof of the subway is swiftly repaired; metal and stone reforming itself with a little bit of helpful magic.

"They won't remember anything. That venom has incredibly powerful Obliviative properties." Newt informs the assembled group.

"We owe you a great debt, Mr. Scamander," Madam Picquery begins impressed. "Ms. Granger." Curiosity gleams in her eyes once more when she looks over to Hermione, still standing between Jacob and Queenie. "Now, get that case out of New York."

"Yes, Madam President," Newt says as Hermione silently nods her head.

Madam Picquery walks away with her pack of Aurors behind her. Suddenly she turns back. Queenie's eyes widen. She drops Hermione's hand and stands protectively in front of Jacob, trying to hide him.

Hermione brushes her fingers against her wand, entirely exhausted but still willing to fight once more if need be.

"Is that No-Maj still here?" Madam Picquery asks upon seeing Jacob. "Obliviate him. There can be no exceptions."

"I'm sorry, but even one witness... you know the law." Madam Picquery says, reading the anguish on their faces.

A pause. She's clearly uncomfortable with their distress.

"I'll let you say good-bye." With those final words, she leaves.

* * *

Jacob leads the others up the steps of the subway, Queenie following close behind him. Tina finally joins their ragtag group after getting all the information she could from the other Aurors.

Rain is still falling heavily, the streets now almost empty but for a few hardworking Aurors.

Jacob reaches the top of the steps and gazes into the rain. Queenie reaches out and grabs his coat, willing him not to move out into the street. Jacob turns to her.

"Hey. Hey, this for the best." He reasons, looking to each of the assembled group in turn. "Yeah - I was - I was never supposed to be here."

Jacob fights back the tears. Queenie gazes up at him, her beautiful face utterly distraught. Tina and Newt, too, look incredibly sad. His eyes flicker to Hermione last, curiosity roused, as he takes in the angry expression seeming to contort her face, though the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes give away her distress.

"And I was?" She asks, her bitterness with the situation evident in her tone.

Queenie's shoulders shake with the strain of her building emotions, fingers clutching at his coat. Jacob looks over her shoulder to Hermione, a sad smile on his face, eyes softening as he takes in the mysterious woman — _his friend_.

"I was never supposed to know any of this. I'm not like the rest of you. Everybody knows Newt only kept me around because — Hey Newt, why did you keep me around?" He asks.

An irritated sound falls from Hermione's lips; she starts forward as if to berate the man for even daring to think those thoughts when Newt's heavy hand falls onto her shoulder, halting her approach. She turns to him, expression curious with a touch of irritation.

Newt needs to be precise, something that doesn't come quite so easily to him.

"Because I like you. Because you're my friend and I'll never forget how you helped me, Jacob." There's a pause.

A pained sob wrenches from Queenie's lips, her shoulders continuing to shake. Tears run freely down Hermione's face too. Even Tina isn't immune, her own affection for the man and worry for her sister assaults her senses; fists tightly clenched at her sides, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, expression softening.

"Oh!" Is all the muggle man says, clearly overcome with emotion at Newt's answer.

Queenie moves forward up the final few steps towards Jacob, standing even closer.

"I'll come with you. We'll go somewhere. We'll go anywhere. See, I ain't never gonna find anyone like—" Queenie begins, trying to cheer him up.

"There's loads like me." The kind man says bravely.

Hermione's heart pangs at those bravely spoken words, she can't help but admire the selfless man. She swipes at the tears falling in steady streams down her heated, dirty cheeks.

"No… No… There's only _one_ like you." The pain is almost unbearable as Queenie's words sink in.

"I gotta go," Jacob says once more after a beat.

Jacob turns to face the rain and wipes his eyes, a sob tears from Queenie's parted lips, hands now clenched tight to her chest.

"Jacob!" Hermione and Newt start at the same time, both starting towards Jacob.

"It's okay... It's—" He turns slightly to look back the group once more, the words dying on his lips as Hermione flings herself at him, catching her in his arms before setting her right once more, befuddled and surprised.

 _He won't forget._ She swears in her mind, paying no mind to her friends still behind her, focusing on Jacob's teary, dark eyed gaze before leaning in close, speaking the words meant only for his ears.

"It wasn't all bad, was it? Your memories of these past few days I mean, they weren't all bad. The venom only erases bad memories, Jacob. Come back to us, find Queenie and then come find Newt and I — We'll be waiting." She says in a rushed whisper, voice thick with emotion before giving him one final tight hug. "I promise. We'll wait."

A short, sharp laugh falls from Jacob's startled lips. Hermione turns, meeting Queenie's eyes, sharing the memory of her words with the young, crying woman. Happiness swells within her as a small, shaky smile pulls at the other woman's lips.

"Thank you." Queenie manages to choke out as Hermione moves back towards Newt, turning to watch as Jacob says his final piece.

"It's okay." Another short laugh. "It's just like waking up, right?" Despite her words, his small smile looks somewhat forced.

 _This is wrong._ The group smiles back at Jacob, trying to soothe the situation.

Looking at their faces as he moves, Jacob walks backward into the rain. Turning his face to the sky, arms out, he allows the raindrops to wash over him completely.

Queenie creates a magical umbrella with her wand and steps out toward Jacob. She moves in close, tenderly stroking Jacob's face before closing her eyes and bending in to gently kiss him.

Finally, she pulls slowly away, her gaze not leaving Jacob's face even for a second. Then, suddenly, she's gone, leaving Jacob standing, arms out, longingly embracing no one.

Finally he fully 'wakes up,' blank faced and confused by his location and the torrential downpour he's standing in. He finally moves off through the streets- a lonely figure.

* * *

One week later an exhausted Jacob, surrounded by the other production line workers, leaves after a hard day's shift. He carries a battered leather case.

A man walks towards him- Newt. They collide, and Jacob's case is knocked to the ground.

"So sorry — sorry!" Newt shouts back as he moves swiftly and purposely onward, tossing one final look over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Jacob shouts; he doesn't recognize the oddly dressed man.

Jacob bends to pick up his case and looks down, puzzled. His old case is suddenly weighted. One of the catches flicks open of its own accord. Jacob smiles a little and bends down to open the case.

Inside, the case is filled with solid silver Occamy eggshells, with a note attached.

 _"Dear Mr. Kowalski, You are wasted in a canning factory. Please take these Occamy eggshells as collateral for your bakery. A well-wisher."_

* * *

"Bit of an awkward way to go about it, don't you think?" Newt starts, turning towards the source of the noise as Hermione's amused voice fills the small alleyway around him. "And please don't tell me you left in the bit about them being Occamy eggs—"

Newt gives her a small, awkward smile as he trails his gaze over her body.

"I thought Queenie was taking you shopping today?" He asks, choosing to ignore her questions and instead focus on her current manner of dress, an eyebrow quirked in amusement and question.

"She did, though we transfigured and stitched much of what we bought to better suit my tastes," Hermione responds, her red stained lips curving into a slight smirk as she parts the fold of her dark blue overcoat exposing the clothing underneath. "I'm a few years early, but honestly I can't say I've ever been a fan of the dropped waist style the 20's seem to favour — Is there a problem?" She asks, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Newt's eyes rake over her body, taking in her modest black heels and stocking clad legs. The hem of her dark blue skirt is a little higher than appropriate for daywear, falling just below her knees. It flares slightly at the bottom before being pulled tight to her body, hugging her hips and waist perfectly. A loose, cream coloured silk blouse tucked into the high waist of her skirt, the collar gaping in the most appetizing of ways, her distinctive, riotous curls framing her lightly made up face.

 _Oh good._ She smirks, watching his Adam's apple bob, tongue darting out from between his lips. He looks very much like a man dying of thirst.

"Not at all." His voice deepens, blue eyes finally meeting her amused gaze. The two share a smile. Hermione loops an arm through Newt's before pulling him from the alley and onto the busy New York city streets, a tinkling laugh, so very much like bells falling from her lips.

"You never did answer my questions." She reminds the man at her side, teasingly as her breath caresses the exposed skin of his neck.

Her laughter fills the space around them once more as he shivers, not as unaffected by her close proximity as a casual observer may assume.

* * *

The next day Hermione and Newt walk through the crowds on the New York Harbour.

The two Brits are preparing to leave New York. Newt with his overcoat on, Hufflepuff scarf wrapped around his neck, case tied tightly with a string.

Hermione in her new dark blue overcoat, sensible black heels clicking against the ground, and her faithful black leather bag held tight against her side. Queenie's on her arm as Tina trails behind the group, annoyed.

They stop before the boarding gate, Queenie releases Hermione's arm, and the two sisters stand before Newt and Hermione.

"Well, it's been..." Newt smiles, looking between the two sisters. He takes note of Hermione's somewhat sad expression from the corner of his eye.

"It has!" Queenie says with a light laugh, wiping at the tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

A brilliant smile breaks out across Hermione's face now as she laughs, starting forward, throwing her arms around Queenie, pulling her into a tight hug.

The two women speak in low, hushed tones, tears falling down both of their faces as Tina steps forwards, stopping a few feet away from Newt.

"Listen, Newt, I wanted to thank you." She says, flicking a quick look towards her sister and the woman held tight in her arms.

"What on earth for?" Newt asks; his confusion is evident.

"Well, you know, if you hadn't—" She huffs; an annoyed look falls across her face, remembering something she'd rather not. "If you _and_ Hermione hadn't said all those nice things to Madam Picquery about me… I wouldn't be back on the investigative team now." She manages, the name Hermione seeming to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Newt can't help the amused smile that curves his lips at her discomfort, the differences between the women clear, the chances of these two women ever becoming good friends certainly nothing more than a pipe dream.

Despite all that has happened he holds no ill will towards the dark haired woman before him. The two continue to share amicable words as Hermione and Queenie release their tight embrace, hands held tight.

"I'll miss you," Hermione says, truly meaning every word, sad to say goodbye to the amazing woman that has just recently become her friend. "You know…" She whispers. "We could come back, once Newt publishes his book. We could bring you a copy. I have no idea what I'll be doing with the rest of my life here, but I doubt I'll be able to escape this one." She says with a laugh, eyes flickering to where Newt stands, taking note of the soft smile on his face as he speaks with Tina.

"Oh Honey, I don't think you could escape that man even if you wanted to," Queenie confirms, a delicate laugh escaping her painted lips.

"You may very well be right. I'm sure this isn't the last you'll see of either us and," Hermione leans in, her lips close to the other woman's ear. "He'll remember you Queenie, he'll remember all of us. When he does, when you finally find Jacob again and his memory returns, come find us. We'll, well - There's a saying at Hogwarts: _'Help will always be given to those who ask.'_ " She shares, a wistful smile pulling at her lips. A steady stream of tears falls down her face when she pulls back, looking once more into the Queenie's eyes. "I've always liked that. The laws regarding Wizard and No-Maj relations are rather strict here in America, and I don't see that changing anytime soon." A frustrated huff escapes Hermione's lips then, a small giggle falling from Queenie's own.

"A change of scenery could do you wonders. And if a No-Maj we've all come to know and love somehow manages to find you and come along for the ride, I'd love nothing more than to give you all the help and assistance I can. All you need to do is ask." With those final words, Hermione steps back.

Still smiling as she releases Queenie's hands, swiping at her falling tears, drying her face.

The ship blares its siren. The other passengers have now boarded. Hermione and Newt share a look. Hermione grabs Queenie's hand, giving it one final squeeze before looking to Tina as Newt quickly says goodbye to Queenie. A startled noise escapes his lips as the young woman throws herself into his arms, pulling him into a tight hug, whispering something in his ear.

Hermione holds out a hand to Tina. The other woman looks at it in thought.

"I still think you have no respect for authority and you're a criminal despite the pardon given by the MACUSA." Tina begins, her irritation and dislike of Hermione still evident.

"And I still think you're narrow-minded and blind to much of what occurs within the wizarding world, far too trusting of authority-" Hermione replies with an amused snort, far too relieved and happy to allow her previous irritation with the dark-haired woman to ruin her farewell to America.

"I doubt we'll ever be proper friends, but you were right- It pains me to say it, truly… but you were right about Graves." The young MACUSA employee says with a soft sigh, reaching out to grip Hermione's proffered hand, squeezing tight as though still eager to challenge the mysterious time travelling woman. "That said Queenie seems to trust you." She says reluctantly. "With that in mind and my desire to make my sister happy. I may never fully trust or like you, but if you find yourself in New York sometime again in the future and need a hand, I'd be willing to help where I can." She relents, releasing Hermione's hand, sending a look to her sister and Newt standing just to the side.

Queenie squeals, drawing the attention of passing people as she launches herself at her sister. Hermione laughs as her and Newt turn, accepting Newt's arm, looping her own through his as they walk away from the hugging sisters.

They pause on the gangplank, Newt looking a bit unsure of how to act, Hermione squeezes his arm, the two sharing a look before moving on without looking back.

The two sisters watch on with small smiles, Queenie openly crying as she and Tina watch their new friends leave before turning and exiting, Queenie chatting up a storm the entire way.

* * *

"We'll come back," Hermione says, voice low, nearly drowned out by the sound of the raging waves smashing against the ship's side as she and Newt look out into the sea, the wind howling around them.

"Of course." He replies, brilliant blue eyes meeting hers in a swirl of brown and blue. A small smile stretches across his lips, reddish-brown hair whipping in the wind as he reaches down, finger twining with her own, squeezing gently as they look out into the sea once more.

 _On to the next great adventure._ Hermione thinks with a wistful smile, a thrill of excitement rushing through her.

* * *

On the opposite end of the long passenger ship, a young man leans over the edge of the rails, his unsettling and unnaturally dark eyes look up into the bright, clear sky, watching as the seagulls swoop overhead.

The other passengers avoid the odd looking young man, a noticeable, clearly new and raw scar stretching across the left side of his face. Those who accidentally draw to close to him hurry away as though afraid. Their actions seem to matter little to the man.

Here Credence Barebone stands, an American wizard, the adopted son of the late Mary Lou Barebone, finally free. Free of his adopted mother and the New Salem Philanthropic Society. Free of the hate and abuse. Free to make his own way through life and finally find a place where he can truly belong.

Credence has no idea where he's going or what he'll do but he's taking the chance either way, his new overcoat whips in the wind, the style and cut so very similar to the one Percival Graves wore when the two would meet in the dead of night, his dark hair pushed back.

 _A new lease on life._ Credence takes a deep breath, sucking the salty sea air into his lungs as he looks to his hands as though examining them, a small hopeful smile filling his face.

* * *

Deep in the fathomless, depths of MACUSA, in a solid black room with no windows or doors and additional security features, sits Gellert Grindelwald. He's bound to a chair, shackled to the floor but gives a taunting grin as he stares at Madam Picquery.

The President is disturbed by his grin and shaken to the bones by the sheer conviction in his words. Her heart thrums like a hummingbird's against her chest, she breaks out in cold sweats.

A loud, masculine laugh fills the small magically reinforced room, a touch of madness dancing around the edges.

A shiver runs up Madam Picquery's spine.

 _Can we truly hold him?_ A small voice whispers in the back of her mind.

Can anyone possibly stop Gellert Grindelwald, the greatest war criminal of their time?

* * *

Far away in the Scottish Highlands, within the ancient walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, locked away in the Transfiguration Professor's personal quarters sits one Albus Dumbledore.

He runs a shaking hand through his hair; the dark auburn of his youth is steadily being consumed by white. Stroking his auburn-white beard, he pushes his half-moon spectacles up his nose. His bright blue eyes dull and muted as he looks at the week old copy of the prophet spread open on his desk.

The large, blown up, black and white, moving photograph of Grindelwald after he was captured plays on a loop before him. The manic smirk on his old friend's lips unnerves him, sending a sliver of presage through his stressed mind.

One of the more interesting knick-knacks on his desk begins to whir and whine as if responding to his growing anxiety and negativity. He scans through the article once more, his blue eyes determinedly searching before settling on the smaller photograph within the articles depths.

His eyes regain their twinkle at the image of his old student, Newt Scamander pulling a much shorter, young woman into his body, hoping to shield her from the greedy cameras, eager to protect her identity. Their overcoats and her wild bushy hair, obscure any distinctive features as the scene plays out once more.

His eyes fall on the short profiles provided for the new heroes of the wizarding world. Scanning quickly through the information provided for Newt before studying the minuscule paragraph devoted to one Hermione Granger, brows furrowed in thought, curiosity roused.

 _Hermione Granger._ Albus Dumbledore muses. A faint hum falls from his lips as he continues to stroke his beard. Diving deep into his thoughts, he leans back in his chair, with his blue eyes staring into the dancing flames held within his fireplace.

* * *

"—those damn Americans refuse to hand Gellert Grindelwald over to the proper authorities! They won't be able to hold him! And now this woman!" A high-ranking Ministry official shouts, tossing a crumpled copy of the Prophet onto the Minister's desk. "Just who is this _Hermione Granger_ character? How do we know this isn't some ruse thought up between her and Grindelwald! How do we know this isn't a part of their plan?"

 _How many times have they had this conversation already I wonder?_ Theseus Scamander muses, standing straight at attention, hands folded behind him, heart beating a wild rhythm against his chest.

 _Newt..._ He sighs mentally, his eyes drawn to the moving image of his brother and the young woman once more. A sliver of worry worms its way into his mind as the gathered officials and Heads of each department continue to scream over one another in the small assembly room.

 _What in the world am I doing here?_ An audible sigh slips from his lips catching the attention of the young woman beside him.

"Auror Scamander!" The stern voice of Hector Fawley, current Minister for Magic, breaks Theseus from his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Theseus hums, his dark blue eyes widening a fraction. The woman beside him quietly laughs, a delicate, tanned, well-manicured hand covering her mouth.

Theseus notices that the Minister's turning into a particularly alarming shade of red, his anger building.

"Your brother." He barks, standing from behind his desk, meaty fists slamming into the hard wood of his desk. He waves the scrunched up copy of the Prophet in his clenched hand. "What has he done now! And just who is this woman he's currently running wild with!"

"Two British wizards on foreign soil, running wild with a case of magical beasts, wreaking havoc on the streets of New York City." The British envoy snorts, "We're lucky to have avoided an international incident!" He finishes with a sneer dripping with vexation.

Theseus sighs, running a hand through his copper-brown hair, scratching at the day-old stubble growing along his jaw.

"Minister, I haven't spoken to my brother in over a year. He's constantly running off in search of new and exciting creatures to study. It's nearly impossible to keep track of his whereabouts at any given time." Theseus explains, voice steady and respectful despite his growing irritation. "As for his new companion? Well, I honestly have no idea who she is..."

" _No one_ has any idea who this woman is?! How can we not have any information regarding her! There's a registry of every single British wizard and witch currently residing here and abroad, yet our people found no mention of records under the name of one Hermione Granger!" The Minister roars, crumpling the newspaper up, and tossing it across the room.

 _Like a child throwing a tantrum._ Theseus muses, his expression remains respectful and stoic.

A feminine cough draws his attention to the woman beside him.

"Well actually—" The young woman adds hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably with steely glares thrown her way.

"Recently, there was an incident in the Hall of Prophecies…" The young woman admits, her voice gaining confidence, but a feeling of dread blooms from Theseus's body.

 _Oh Newt, what have you done now?_ He ponders, running a frenzied hand through his disheveled hair.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Hey there again! Sooo we've briefly (very briefly) introduced current Dumbledore and Theseus Scamander to the story. More on those two later in this story. So actors... here's who i'm kind of imagining while writing them...

Current Dumbledore: Jared Harris, yes ok... so the actor's current age is a bit older than the current Dumbledore but I don't believe it's too big of a stretch to imagine this one.

Theseus Scamander: Tom Hiddleston, you know kind of reddish-brown, scruffy faced style Hiddleston. Feline, Nyxie and I were throwing around a few ideas for this one but in the end I think Hiddleston fits best. Theseus is a war hero and currently an Auror and I think Hiddleston gives off that sort of feel.

But what do you guys think? Any actors that you were imagining? Any thoughts on their personalities and such? I've been trying to flesh out their personalities and everything but Theseus is basically a blank canvas. Any thoughts you've had like, 'Yep. Newt's brother would totally be like this!'?

Crimson-Midnight-Moon: Ahahah i'm tempted to make it a running Joke... Hermione Granger, the girl who lived to physically assault dark lords... like she's searching around on a ladder in the bookstore and accidentally drops a book "Wham!" oh god she just broke a young Tom Riddle's nose... or like old lady Hermione's just walking down the street in the far off future and gets all kinds of pissy when she sees Quirrell with that damn Voldemort covering turban and "Zap!" "My hand slipped I swear-" She tells Newt after sending off a stinging hex at the back of Quirrell's turban. Like she just keeps accidentally hitting them and then once she's old she's just like "F**k it, i've had it up to here with these trumped up dark wizards-"... that makes me laugh...

CarlyLynn: Yep! Grindelwald definitely will not be forgetting about Hermione... girl's pretty much gone and made sure that it will be virtually impossible to live a quiet life anytime in the foreseeable future... oops...

twztdwildcat: Thank you! I'm glad it turned out well... had to rewrite that duel a few times until I got something I was happy with...

umaca: Ohhh yes now that we're heading back to England the Lestranges are going to come into play! Hopefully I don't disappoint!

MiladyTairiell: Yeah I was sad to do it again but I had to... that potential doesn't necessarily need to go to waste though! He might still get a happy ending... maybe. Spoilers! Nah nah what I can say is that we're heading back to England obviously. Hoping to develop Hermione and Newt's relationship some more, give those two some much needed alone time hopefully so they can chat and such. I have a few characters i'm thinking of introducing in England either now or later. Dumbledore, Leta and Theseus being the most important at the moment. Things will still keep moving with Grindelwald and such. Not sure when but i'll probably eventually come back to Credence and address what i've decided has happened to the real Graves and i'd wager a bet that we'll end up in France somehow by 1928 so I can continue to advance the drama with Grindelwald and the building war. These are a few ideas i'm currently working on, though not all of them may make it to the final edit and they are not all entirely fleshed out, some things may change but that's the current state of things.

EliexChan: Oliver/Hermione... Yessss! Give me! Give me! I'd read that... that accent... totally had a crush on his when I was younger... oops!

mayte stark: No hot moments this time but they're coming I swear ;) Oh god yes... Grindelwald as Graves holding Hermione. Hell to the yes... aside from the whole he's being an evil bastard thing... sadly Grindelwald as himself holding Hermione just doesn't give off the same vibe... ColinDepp

nostalgiakills: ahahah oh god now isn't that an idea... He was born in 1926 but honestly i'm not quite sure how Hermione would feel about that one. Plus i'm not sure how well that would work with her and Newt constantly running about... though perhaps she will meddle somehow... who knows!


	19. A Sliver of Light

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Right so... Sorry guys but this one's mostly filler, needed to get from one point to the next! Though I must say the scene at the end is quite good and I believe it really came together thanks to Nyxie's wonderful help!

Ahh! Also, if you're wondering about the song used during the final scene it's O' Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds! I listened to that song so many times that I was all sorts of emotional while writing the final scene... Anywho it's a great song!

As always thank you all for the kind reviews and continued interest in this story! Also thank you to my wonderful beta Nyxie who really did bring this entire chapter together!

Ah! Also, one final thing. Don't worry I won't just end this guy without giving you some forewarning, there's still many chapters left before I intend to end this guy :) Ah yes! Before I forget. Notice the new image for the story? Awesome right?! Thank you to the reader who did that, I truly love it. Sorry... wasn't sure if you wanted me to mention you by name... just know that i'm extremely thankful and absolutely love it! Right. Personal responses at the bottom. Enjoy!

* * *

It had been three months since they disembarked from the New York harbour, boarding a ship bound for Britain.

Three months later and a semblance of normality had finally begun to return to Hermione and Newt's life. Three months... and the guilt of leaching Newt's kindness was tearing at the edges of Hermione's mind.

 _No Money. No Job. No place to call all my own._ Hermione thinks with a sigh as she rereads the portion of her book once more, unable to concentrate fully on the task at hand.

 _It's not all bad, though._ She relents. Her eyes glance over to Newt, working on the final edit of his manuscript at the small wooden desk shoved against one of the living rooms walls. Strong shoulders clothed in a white button down, his exposed forearms flexing as he drags his quill across the parchment rolled out before him. Exposed skin, deliciously freckled and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. _Not bad at all._

Hermione's mouth runs dry. Shaking her head as she attempts to focus on the task at hand once more, quickly failing as the words on the page begins to swim. Intelligent brown eyes glaze over, as she gets lost in her thoughts. The dim, lighting within the room eases her trip down memory lane.

There was no one waiting to meet them upon their arrival in Britain. Hermione, in particular, had been convinced that upon their docking in Britain an entire task force of Aurors and Ministry officials would be there to bring her and possibly Newt in for questioning. Hermione certainly knows how to make an impression, and now she had caught the attention of the entire wizarding world, again. All thanks to the incident with Grindelwald and their adventures in New York.

Hermione sighs again, smoothing her ink-stained fingers over the pages of the book held in her lap, hardly registering the way the aged pages seem to pull at her skin.

 _Small blessings._ She thinks. A small smile pulls at her lips, taking in Newt's tall, firm frame and the way his flushed cheeks look in the light. His freckled hand runs through his hair as he mumbles quietly to himself, fully immersed in his work.

Neither Hermione nor Newt cared much for their new status as the current heroes of the Wizarding world. That combined with the Ministry's silence and lack of presence since their arrival was disquieting, to say the least. Every day, a foreboding feeling would tickle the edges of her very being, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, dreading the day a task force of Aurors would storm into Newt's apartment and take them both in.

An audible sigh escapes Hermione's lips. Poppy clacks quietly in her ear, hoping to soothe her frayed nerves. The corners of her lips twitch into a gentle smile, recalling the conversation the two had just as they were entering British waters.

* * *

 _"Listen," Newt begins, pausing as if unsure of how best to continue. "You need a place to live, and I have an apartment—"_

 _Instinctively, Hermione's lips curl downwards into a frown, turning to face the magizoologist with piercing, irritated brown eyes._

 _Newt steels himself; straightens his back, squaring his shoulders as he turns his soft gaze to Hermione's own. Brown and blue meeting in a flurry of unvoiced emotions, both parties eager to say their piece as Hermione opens her mouth, brows furrowed._

 _"Wait! Please." He begs quickly, stopping her before she can begin. "Before you get angry with me just listen please."_

 _Newt had already become somewhat accustomed to her occasionally explosive temper in the past few days, now acutely aware of her lashing reaction to anything perceived as a slight or grave injustice. It was nearly impossible to put a halt to the ensuing argument that was sure to follow._

 _"Have you given any thought to what you would do once we returned to England? It's fine if you haven't. Merlin knows you've had more than enough to deal with since your fall through time and the chaos of New York. But have you actually given it any thought—" He pushes forward, hoping to nip the bud of the argument that he's sure is brewing within her chest._

 _Despite her growing irritation, his charms distracted her. The way his copper-tinted hair is teased by the wind gives him a devil-may-care sort of look. The messy bedhead reminds her so very much of Harry's unruly hair. Her stern expression softening at the thought of her friend, curious brown eyes taking note of his freckled cheeks stained with red. Blue eyes open as he looks at Hermione imploringly._

 _"A bit." Hermione relents with a soft, frustrated sigh. "No money, no job, no identity or easy way to establish my existence in this time thanks to our new found fame."_

 _Newt nods, a relieved sigh falling from his parted lips, glad to have avoided being the one who brought up such issues._

 _"But, I don't need your charity Newt." She pauses, "I've already imposed upon your kindness for far too long." A frustrated look crosses Newt's face as the words fill the air around them, his mouth pulling down in a slight frown._

 _"It's no imposition-I-well, I like you—" Another pause as his brows furrow in deep thoughts. "I – Well, I enjoy your presence, and I don't believe I've ever implied that you're in need of charity. I'm well aware of how resourceful you can be when you put your mind to it. I have no shadow of a doubt that you could very easily make your way through this time all on your own if you so wished." He relents, blue eyes never leaving Hermione's own, his words hurried._

 _"You shouldn't have to, though." He murmurs, a small smile pulling at his lips. Reaching out, he rests a heavy hand lightly on Hermione's. The small touch warms her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure and contentment through her senses._

 _"You fell through time." His voice drops a few octaves, leaning closer to her ear. "You were given barely any time to adjust before being thrown into the middle of an international incident involving the greatest war criminal of our time. You—" He removes his hand and runs it through his already mussed hair. He sighs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Hermione's eyes follow its heated path._

 _"Have you even let yourself work through your emotions yet? Of those you left behind and the life you established in the future? You put up a good front, but these past few days… I can tell that you miss them. I'm here whenever you feel ready. I won't push you, but you need to confront the feelings I can tell are raging within you. You don't need any more stress added to your ever-growing pile of difficulties. I-I just wish to relieve you of some of the burdens—"_

 _Hermione sighs, her irritation swept away by an ocean wave as she turns to the sea once more. Eyes focusing on its dark depths, she begrudgingly accepts his offer with the slightest of nods. Relief washes over his features at her acceptance. His hand reaches out for hers, together, they look out into the sea, lost in their thoughts._

* * *

So here they were, three months later after leaving New York, finally in Britain. Hermione still followed Newt around like a lost child searching for home, struggling to come to terms with all that had happened, struggling to accept the reality of her situation despite her powerful words spoken in New York.

The nightmares. Nightmares that had finally become less frequent in final few years before her fall through time had returned. Only now it wasn't just the war, Voldemort, Bellatrix and the faces of her loved ones from the future dead.

No. Now the macabre scenes had extra players. Grindelwald, Graves, Newt and their friends in New York. Grindelwald's laugh often played on a loop, mingling with the mad cackles of Bellatrix Lestrange, taunting her while she lay awake in bed before following her into her dreams. Hermione's own personal failures. The possibility of her trip through time causing irreparable damage to the timeline and making the future a far darker place plagues her. The _'what if's'_ driving her mad.

Failing to ignore her building worries, the nightmares persist, pushing her to ward and silence her room, lest Newt hear her screams in the middle of the night.

Although, Hermione never knew that her wards had occasionally flattered, alerting Newt to her unvoiced struggles.

The pair settled into a comfortable routine, barring the occasional nightmares that woke him. With Hermione's help, Newt worked on the finishing touches on his manuscript before sending it off for publication. Neither left the apartment too often, both of them well aware of the need to keep a low profile for the time being.

It was peaceful, the life they shared. Both parties respected each other's privacy and need to be alone at times. They continued to bond — their attraction, magic, and friendship growing stronger each and every day.

A routine was quickly developed. Each day filled with the simple comforts of their odd little life.

In the morning, Hermione and Newt would work in his case, making small repairs to the enclosures and enchantments, feeding the creatures and looking to their needs.

They would share most of their meals, only eating alone whenever one was too immersed in thought, work, or a really good book.

 _Books._ Hermione smiles; she strokes the pages of the book, strewn open across her lap.

The two shared a love for reading. A fact, Hermione was eternally grateful for. Arriving at Newt's apartment, his living room caught her attention. It was directly attached to the entranceway, where an entire wall was filled with floor to ceiling bookcases, full of rows upon rows of hardcover novels, a mixture of Muggle and Wizard authors.

Throughout the day, they would work on Newt's manuscript, compiling his research and editing its contents. Each time, Newt passed her a completed entry she discreetly pulls out her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ from her bottomless bag, comparing the first edition to her own, taking note of the creatures that he had yet to find and study.

Newt, however, was aware of her favoured pastime. A small amused smile gracing his lips when she would discreetly dig around in her bag, pulling out the future version of his book, which now had a false cover. It was adorable, believing she had him fooled. A curious twinkle with a touch of amusement filling her bright brown eyes as she notes the differences.

In the evening, they would talk, learning more about each other bit by bit. Letting the days lazily pass by within their safe, now shared home. Two lonely souls had finally met their match. Their days of being alone, busying themselves with trivial tasks to pass the monotonous time was now a thing of the past.

He didn't want her to leave. As much as her guilt was eating away at her senses, Hermione had no true desire to leave Newt, his case and the quiet home he had opened to her here.

 _They were happy_. _Truly and blissfully_ happy, content to pass their days for the time being eager to avoid the curiosity and questions of the Wizarding World, just a little while longer.

However, their peaceful days were soon coming to an end.

* * *

Back in the loud city of New York on the bustling Lower East side, street market stalls line the street with busy people, horses, and carriages.

A small bakery stands out amongst the crowd. Crowds of people throng outside the dainty little shop, painted with the name: _Kowalski_. People peer with interest into the shop's windows, and happy customers leave, their arms laden with baked goods.

* * *

 _I don't want her to leave._ Newt leans back into his chair; he stretches to relieve the tension between his shoulders. Sad blue eyes fall on Hermione's form, sitting curled up in a plush brown chair a few feet away.

 _Beautiful and terrifyingly brilliant._ Her wild hair tamed into a messy bun, her legs are covered with a pair or loose, high-waist, trousers, pulled up onto the chair, tight against her body. Her ink-stained fingers brushing against the pages of her book with a far off look in her eyes.

Newt stands, barefoot, his quiet footfalls softly thudding against the hardwood floor, slowly making his way across the room. Hermione looks up.

He stops in front of a radio, hidden within a darkened corner. He turns the knobs; a slow jazzy number replaces the comfortable silence that surrounded them.

Every day, he learns more and more about the young woman he shares his home with. Every day, she shares a little more about herself with him.

Small things: favourite colour, food, and subjects.

Little bits of her past: her childhood in the muggle world, their technological advances in her time and her first bout of accidental magic.

In return, he shared pieces of himself with her.

However… many things were left unsaid. Her Hogwarts years, friends and family were touchy subjects most of the time. The young woman clammed up and shut down every time he accidentally brushed against these trigger topics.

Likewise, there were topics that Newt himself was reluctant to discuss, such as his own years at Hogwarts, his friends and on occasion his family.

There was an unspoken agreement that two were extremely _forbidden_ : The name Lestrange and the kiss they shared in New York.

Although the decision to avoid speaking of Lestrange was understandable, despite not knowing the reasoning, however, they hit a dead end with the second, and it's beginning to grate on their nerves.

Who knew that one little kiss could cause so much tension and secrecy in their, otherwise, steadily developing relationship.

 _How long will we continue to dance around the topic?_ Newt turns to Hermione, a determined glint in his eyes. He beams, offering a hand.

She closes her book with a snap, laughing. She jumps off the chair and approaches the man, slipping her fingers into his proffered hand.

* * *

Within the small, inviting bakery the doorbell rings, signalling the entrance of a new customer.

A variety of pastries and bread cover the counter, all moulded into fanciful little shapes — a Demiguise, Niffler, and Erumpent are among them.

Jacob serves with a bright smile stretching across his face, his shop full to the brim with customers.

"Where do you get your ideas from, Mr. Kowalski?" A woman asks, examining the little pastries.

"I don't know, I don't know - they just come!" He replies with a short laugh, handing over her pastries.

"Here you go - don't forget this - enjoy." Jacob grins, then calls over one of his bakery assistants, handing him a pair of keys.

"Hey, Henry - storage, all right? Thanks, pal."

The bell chimes again.

Jacob looks up, thunderstruck: I _t's_ _Queenie_. They stare at each other. Queenie beams, radiantly. Jacob, quizzical and totally enchanted, touches his neck - a flicker of memory.

He smiles back.

* * *

Hermione giggles at the bashful yet shy expression on Newt's face. Wand slipping into her free hand, she waves it over her body. Her 20s style clothing ripples away, in its place is the exact same flapper dress Queenie transfigured for her in New York.

Newt's eyes trail up her body, appreciative. He summons his bowtie from the other room, securing it in place with a flourish before dropping her hand and bows. He straightens his back, palm outstretched once more.

A soft chuckle slips from her lips at the absurdity of it all, earning herself an amused smile from him.

"May I have this dance?" He asks; growing impatient, he wiggles his fingers a little.

"You may." Her hand slips into his, warmth sparks into life as they touch. She squeaks when he suddenly pulls her flush against his body, Hermione's skin heating, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

They sway to the crooning voice of the female singer, a mixture of brown and blue as their eyes meet, faces so very close.

Hermione's lips fall into a frown, eyes pulling tight, teeming with remembrance.

 _Harry._ Whispers her mind. Smoky wisps of memories gather together, taking form within her mind. Her senses assaulted by the memories of the Horcrux hunt, when she and Harry were left alone.

Newt notices her melancholy; brows furrowing, tightening his arms around her, in hopes to anchor her to the present.

"I'm not Queenie." He whispers, mouth close to her ear, nose nuzzling into her hair, his warm breath causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"W-What?" Hermione squeaks, confused as she struggles through the dense fog of her memories. She tries to pull back, but Newt's strong hand holds her in place, pressed firmly but gently at the base of her neck.

"I'm not a Legilimens. I can see when you lose yourself in the past, but I don't know why. I won't know a thing unless you tell me." He explains; blue eyes searching deep into hers, he dares not speak louder than a whisper, pleading her to share this with him.

"It's nothing," Hermione answers, avoiding his piercing gaze by looking away.

" _Please._ " Hermione's breath hitches, she looks up at Newt beneath her lashes. "Tell me something, anything."

Newt stares hopefully as Hermione weighs the options.

She abruptly pulls away. A pained whimper escapes from Newt at the loss of contact. Hermione walks across the room, burying her arm, elbow deep into her black leather bag.

He hears things knocking against one another. With a triumphant bark, Hermione pulls out a small silvery-blue sphere from her bag. She closes the distance between them quickly, standing in front of him with uncertainty.

"I—" She pauses, as her voice cracks, tears rim her eyes as she struggles to word her thoughts. "I can show you. I-If you'd like?"

Newts brilliant blue eyes sees how she bites down hard on the tender flesh of her bottom lip. His features soften, aware of the shimmering tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.

Speechless and baffled, he nods.

With a shaky breath, she presses a small button on the orb. The globe begins to glow, soft as candlelight before materializing a holographic screen. She turns a knob, brown eyes focused on the mini screen as glimpses of her memories flash by, their image bathed in a blue tint.

Newt's eyes narrow, observing each memory that flashes past. Many were bright and cheerful snapshots of what looks like a young Hermione with various people quickly rushing by. However, most of her memories were of an older couple that she shares a resemblance.

 _Her parents._ He concludes.

A young boy with black, messy hair, glasses and the brightest pair of green eyes Newt's ever seen, ages throughout the memories.

There was another with fiery-red hair too.

So many people he's never seen and likely won't for decades yet, but obviously meant the world to the mysterious woman.

The memories then stop, landing on a single scene tinted darker than the rest.

The image clears and comes into focus. It's a young Hermione, around 17 or 18 standing next to a familiar dark haired boy, present in many of the previous memories. They're standing in an earthy-brown tent, bathed in the dim light from the lanterns on the wall.

"It… Well, this memory — It was a sliver of light in the darkest of times." She stutters, biting down on her lip once more, her fingers shaking. Hermione waves her wand, and immediately silence entombs them. Fingers fumbling, she presses the button, and the memory begins to play out on the blue-tinged screen.

Newt's gapes in wonder, eyes attentive and awed. Memory Hermione sits on a short set of steps that appear to lead to a small sleeping area. The dim lantern bathes her tanned face in a yellowish glow. Her hair was wild and greasy, tamed into a loose ponytail that hangs at the base of her neck, her legs pulled tight to her chest, wearing a pair of pants that look like a second skin with a loose plaid shirt. Sad brown eyes focused on the small radio to her side.

"Harry." She clarifies, identifying the dark haired boy approaching. She smiles at the sight of him.

The young man — Harry crosses the room, looking just as dirty and worn down as Hermione. He sits in a foldable chair, facing his friend.

The radio crackles as a song fills the room around them in the present. It's like nothing he's ever heard before. The lyrics and music seem to overflow with emotion as he focuses on the two young people.

 _Harry looks to Hermione, hands folded in his lap. He's exhausted, dirty and suffering from sleep deprivation. He tries to focus on his friend._

 _Hermione stares at the radio, back hunched, arms wrapped tight around her legs._

 _Taking in her state of mind, he slowly makes his way across the room. He stands directly in front of her. Finally noticing him, she looks up; her eyes filled with unshed tears, a sense of defeat was plain as day on her young, un-scarred face. Harry shuffles on the spot under her gaze; clearing his throat, gathering his courage, he offers her a hand._

 _Confused, Hermione swallows back the frog in her throat, blinking away her tears and accepts his hand._

"We - our friend had left us. We were on the run, hiding out in a tent and Ron..." She chokes, "he _abandoned_ us. Harry and I - we had to bear the burden alone - the locket. It was _vile._ " She stumbles, struggling to explain the context to him.

Anger batters against Newt's senses when she stumbles over the name. Ron. Despite not knowing who Ron is, Newt feels furious by his actions. But he reminds himself that this boy has yet to be born and has yet to thrust his share of the burden upon his friends.

Shaking his head, he chases away his anger and turns his attention back to the memory.

 _Harry reaches around her neck, fingers easily locating the clasp of the necklace as he pulls the locket from its place. His brilliant green, filled with purpose, gazes unwavering into her brown._

 _Throwing it to the side, the heavy locket hits the wall with a clank. Hermione breathes a little easier and tension slips away from her body._

 _Taking her hand, he walks them to the centre of the room. With a strained playful smile, they dance to the music; knuckles white, and their eyes fixed on one another._

 _He spins her. She's smiling more and more as they gain more confidence in their unscripted dance, along with tempo. Her eyes still teary but no longer in sadness_.

Newt's heartbeat quickens at the emotional scene.

There was no romance there, but it was clear that there was more than the eye can see. The bond between Harry and Hermione was deeper than that — their silly, dance moves tainted with weariness speak of a bond forged through adversity and need. A friendship that will never become anything more than platonic, but stand firmly against everything the world throws their way. Those smiles, laughter, silly little dance — a comfort in this dark time.

 _A sliver of light in the darkest of times._ Newt's lips purse thin. _It's just like she said._

 _The pair takes turns spinning one another, bright smiles, tinged with melancholy; laughter freely spilling from their lips._

A muffled sob startles Newt, his eyes widen as he looks to Hermione.

Tears are running freely down her face, shoulders quaking as her emotions burst through the dam. She tries to stem the cascade of tears down her cheeks with a forced smile; the memory shakes along with her.

 _The music swells, their movements quicker and joyous. The pair loses themselves in this playful dance. Harry and Hermione hold each other close, breathing heavily, resting their chins on one another's shoulders as they continue to rock each other to the music. Hermione fists the back of Harry's shirt while he wraps his arm tighter around her waist, seeking comfort in the others embrace._

 _As the music fades out, the pair pulls apart, standing a minute distance apart. Their eyes meet one final time, before the memory wanes._

The moment the memory vanishes; Newt closes the distance between them with his long legs, gently prying the dormant orb from her hand. He tosses it onto the chair then pulls the sobbing woman into his arms. One arm snakes around her waist, another burying itself into her hair, he hugs her. He simply holds her, paying no mind to her tears soaking his shirt.

He tries to comfort her after reliving such an emotional memory, he blinks furiously as tears beginning to sting the corners of his eyes, as a wave of empathy crashes into him.

"I'm sorry—" He whispers, choking with emotions.

He buries his nose deeper into her curls, pulling a deep, shaking breath into his burning lungs. His lips brush a hair away from her ear, warm breaths caressing her skin. Newt struggles to find the words, any words to convey his feelings. He wishes he could take away every single teardrop, quivering lips, and the shake in her shoulders as her body heaves in sobs. But there are just some things magic can't do.

"What for?" She asks with a sobbing laugh, arms tightening around his form.

Newt pulls away a little, meeting her tear filled gaze with a tender look of his own. He cradles her tear-stained cheek in his hand, wiping away the incoming tears with his thumb.

"You miss him — You miss all of them." He says laying a soft, adoring kiss on her temple.

"I-I really do." She stammers; breathing laboriously, more tears gushing down her face. Newt pulls back, giving her another soft smile, his hand rubbing small circles into her back.

"You can tell me about them, about him." Newt murmurs into her ear. "If you'd like."

Her brows furrow, lips quivering as she seems to debate his words.

"I – Okay. Yes." She relents, a teary smile filling her face. "I'll tell you. What do you want to know?"

* * *

 **Author Notes** : EliexChan: Love em'! Agreed, really wish there were more. Ohhhh I need to check out some of your fics!

ndavis77: No worries I think we'll be seeing the New York gang again especially Queenie... love that woman. No worries there should be some more romance. Gotta move that relationship along :)

lieutenantcolin: I must admit i'm pretty excited to see Theseus, Hermione and Newt interact as well. Should be a fun time! I wouldn't worry about Hermione too much i'm sure she;ll work something out :)

Pumpkinpiiekat: ahaha we'll see. Hmm as for the cat, now that's an idea! Let me think on that one... I like it!

bleeb90: Don't worry! As I mentioned above I won't just end this guy without giving you all a bit of forewarning!


	20. The Boy Who Lived

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Woooo Chapter 20! Well I attempted to take a somewhat lengthy trip down memory lane again... hopefully it didn't turn out to boring, dense or wordy. Having a wee bit of trouble getting the exact feel for what I want in the second part... hopefully it will start to flow a little more smoothly in the next chapter. Anywho, more Theseus! Woop!

As always thank you all for the continued interest and kind words! I'll always love reading your messages and reviews! Thank-you to Nyxie who continues to be a wonderful Beta and somehow manages to edit these chapters at the speed of light!

Right! Onto the chapter! Personal responses at the end.

* * *

Once more calmed after her emotional outburst, settled into the comfortable fabric of the magically lengthened chair, fabric-clad thigh pressed firmly against Newt's own, a steaming cup of tea in hand Hermione begins her tale.

"Harry James Potter - Where do I begin? I told you how we became friends, thanks to the troll incident, but that wasn't truly our first meeting. Though, perhaps. Perhaps it's best to start at the very beginning," Hermione shudders a deep breath, holding her steaming cup of tea close to her chest as a chill runs through her body.

A pause. Hermione furrows her brow, seemingly lost in thought before setting her tea to the side, turning to face Newt.

"Newt." She begins, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I don't believe I'm wrong to trust you, but what I'm about to tell you - it's of the utmost importance that the information I share, here and now, stays between us." She pauses again, taking another deep shaking breath of air into her lungs before continuing. "I'm still not entirely sure how my presence has affected the timeline; perhaps these events have ceased to exist thanks to my presence. But what I'm about to tell you, the information I'm about to share, it's extremely _sensitive_ information, which in the wrong hands could probably bring about the end of the Wizarding world as we know it."

Newt looks into Hermione's eyes, silence filling the air. He tilts his head in the slightest of nods. Exhaling, Hermione scoops her tea back into her hands, seeking its warmth. She clears her throat before beginning her tale.

"In 1980, a prophecy was given, _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord Approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'_ You see, this prophecy, despite my reservations regarding the Divination, was indeed a _true_ prophecy. It was a catalyst for much of what was to come."

"Ah- not one for divination then?" Newt suddenly interrupts, attempting to lighten the mood a little. He needs to shake off the feeling of foreboding that crept along his senses somehow.

Hermione laughs, a wistful smile on her face. "Not at all." She replies, taking a sip of her tea. "A story for another day, perhaps."

"Now where was I... Ah, yes. You see the prophecy in question referred to the 'Dark Lord' and one Harry James Potter, a half-blood wizard who would be born that very year. Unfortunately, an agent of the dark heard only the first part of the prophecy. He returned to his master and relayed what he had found." Newt can see the sadness crossing her face at the mention of this 'dark agent' as silence hangs in the air, he furrows a brow in thought, storing the information away for later. "Despite not knowing the full prophecy and being aware that there were two young boys who met the requirements. He chose to focus his attentions on Harry, who was a half-blood like him. On the 31st of October, 1981 the Dark Lord attacked the Potter residence, killing James and Lily Potter before turning his wand on young Harry. Although, I'm sure he believed it would be easy, killing a small defenceless child. He was wrong. The killing curse rebounded, destroying his physical form and scarring young Harry."

She pauses again, gathering her voice. "The Wizarding World rejoiced. The Dark Lord was defeated. The world was finally at peace, and Harry became known as _'The Boy Who Lived'_ , though the Wizarding world not sees young Harry again for many years yet." Her voice drips with bitterness at the thought.

Newt watches with hawk-like eyes as Hermione leans forward, placing her cooling cup of tea to the side. She leans back into the chair with a low sigh and a faraway look in her eyes.

"Harry James Potter." That small wistful smile, tinged with sadness fills her face once more. "'The Boy Who Lived to be a giant pain in my arse." Newt chokes on his tea, shocked by her sudden, crass language. Hermione laughs. "In 1991, on the Hogwarts Express, a young Muggle-born girl would meet the two young boys who would later become her very best friend. Sadly, our initial meeting wasn't the best. The young red-haired boy, Ronald Weasley didn't like the young girl at all, and Harry, having spent much of his early life without friends or a loving family, clung to his very first friend in the Wizarding World like a Bowtruckle to its tree. I've told you about the troll incident, how our friendship began—" Hermione snorts, making Newt smile indulgently.

"Trouble seemed to follow Harry - and well, Ron and I were often dragged along for the ride, willingly or not. In our first year alone, we faced off against a troll," Hermione notices Newt pulling a face from the corner of her eye. "Oh, honestly that was one of the _least_ dangerous creatures we encountered during our time at Hogwarts." She says with a laugh, face falling as a memory begins to form within her mind once more. "You'll often find that the most terrifying creatures you'll meet aren't the ones hiding under your bed or in the Forbidden Forest, but those that wear the skin of humans, masquerading as people with a soul made or pure, inky black."

An uncomfortable silence falls, their uneven breathing punctuating the silence as her words begin to sink in.

* * *

One of the Guards shudders, a foreboding shadow creeping into his very soul. He straightens his back, hand on his wand, staring steadfastly at one of the abyss-black walls. He notices his partner's breath hitches. They look at each other out of the corner of their eyes, noting the cold sweat breaking out across the middle-aged man's skin.

From within the magically reinforced, maximum-security room, an eerie little tune whistles through the walls. A haunting song that chills the guards to the bone, charging every hair on his body to stand at ends.

 _He's a madman._ The nameless guard grits his teeth, fingers flexing around the curved hilt of his wand.

Suddenly the eerie song ends. Gellert Grindelwald falls silent once more.

The Guard can't help but wonder which is worse, his eerie words or the unsettling silence now screaming through the room and halls.

* * *

"Not even the great Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of my time, was omnipotent." Newt quirks his brow at the mention of Dumbledore, a spark of curiosity filling his sharp-blue eyes. "Hogwarts was not as safe as everyone believed. The walls of the ancient school, said to be unrivalled, was questioned many times over throughout the years, and this was only just the beginning." Hermione sighs, rubbing a hand over her drawn face. She ignores Newt's curiosity and pushes forward. "If we ever meet again, I have a few questions I'd like to ask that man— Not the time... Right — So Harry, Merlin was he ever the living embodiment of Godric Gryffindor. That boy was as reckless and bold as the day was long. The three of us learned that the Headmaster hid a powerful magical artefact within the school. Harry fearing that something was amiss went out in search of the stone, Ron and I following close on his heels."

Hermione frowns, losing herself as she attempts to organize the memories from the days that had yet to come.

"You see the teachers had put protections in place, challenges. The first was a _Cerberus_ , named _Fluffy_ , guarding a trapdoor. That was easy enough, a bit of music and Fluffy fell right asleep. Second, after going through the trap door, a long and dark drop which ended with a chamber full of Devil's Snare. Ron was so frustrated with me—" Newt's shocked by the thrill of anger that rushes through his body at the mention of the young red-haired boy's name. "I was trying to prove myself to be an exceptional and knowledgeable witch, but at times I completely forget that I am, in fact, a _witch_. Resorting to a more Muggle means to deal with difficult issues that are solved easily with a small spot of magic." A single tear begins to carve a path down her heated cheeks. She swipes at it with a single shaking hand.

"Third was a chamber with an impossibly high ceiling, filled to the brim with glittering winged keys. F-Fourth was an impossibly dark room designed by our Transfiguration professor. Within the chamber, was a human sized chess board—"

* * *

Sequestered away in his personal office, Albus Dumbledore sits alone. In front of him is a hand-carved ebony Wizarding Chess board.

Albus strokes his auburn-white beard, then smooths a finger over one of the expertly crafted Wizard's chess piece, blue eyes thoughtful as he looks at the few pieces spread out before him.

 _There must always be sacrifices._ His eyes darts from the White King and Queen to their darker counterparts.

"Knight to H-3" He quietly murmurs, folding his hands under his chin.

The White Knight moves forward, directly into the path of the Black Queen. Albus watches as the Black Queen destroys his knight, before making quick work of the opposing team's King.

The match is won, but at a cost. Albus leans back in his chair, a soft sigh falling from his lips as his twinkling-blue eye glazes over, staring into the darkened room.

"The Greater Good." The single phrase falls from his lips in the smallest of whispers. The fire cracks, a mechanic whine fills the room.

* * *

"Ron and I often clashed. Our personalities were so very different, but there was one thing I could never deny: Ronald Weasley was a brilliant strategist. He knew there was no other way. The sacrifice had to made, to win the game and allow Harry and me to move forward." With a flick of his wand, Newt silently vanishes their cups of cold tea. His curious blue eyes never once leaving Hermione's face, eager to hear all she wished to share.

"The fifth challenge was the Mountain Troll, however, once inside the chamber we found the troll dead. We knew then, for sure that we weren't the first to get this far. The sixth was where my particular talents came into play. It was a logical puzzle, something that would give even the most brilliant of Wizards a pause. The entrance was blocked by purple flames while the exit was barred by black, to leave we had to identify the correct bottles. There were seven bottles on the table, three were poison, two contained nettle wine, one contained a potion to traverse the black flame safely, and the last contained a potion that allowed passage back through the purple flames. I solved the riddle, but there was only enough potion for one to move forward, I returned to Ron and went for help while Harry went forward alone."

"You were 11—" Newt chokes, drawing Hermione's attention, sounding somewhat strangled.

"Twelve," She says with a wave of her hand. "Close enough, though - So, Harry went forward. There, he found the _Mirror of Erised_ and our DADA Professor. It was then we learned that Professor Quirrell, a bumbling, incompetent wizard with an odd fashion sense was, in fact, a host for the wraith-like parasitic consciousness of the Dark Lord. It was here that Harry and the Dark Lord, better known as Voldemort had their second meeting."

"Child-Children, facing off against fully grown wizards." The words force themselves out from his quivering lips, astounded as he looks at the time travelling woman in awe.

"It's hardly the last time something like this happened. It all worked out in the end. The wraith was defeated, Harry, Ron and I survived and earned ourselves the name of _'The Golden Trio'_." Hermione scowls a little at Newt, who looks as though Dementors had a go at him.

She reaches out. Soft brown eyes meet blue, she rests her hand on his, a comforting warmth spreading from where their skin meets.

"We can stop if you'd like. The story only gets worse before it gets better." She informs the troubled young wizard with a small smile, hoping to comfort him.

"No, no - Please, I said I'd listen, and I do wish to know. It's just - Children, the three of you were children—"

"Indeed we were, although death and the horrors of war rarely discriminate according to age or experience. The Wizarding World was a darker place than, growing more and more dangerous with each passing day. That was our reality, and thanks to my friendship with Harry and Ron, I was thrown right into the middle of it all."

* * *

"—this is a direct order from the Minister himself!" The Undersecretary bellows as his face turns a rather unusual shade of purple, bushy brown moustache quivering.

"And as I've said, time and time again, the orbs are protected. The _only_ people who can take a prophecy from its shelf are the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, and the subject or subjects of said prophecy. Though, if you'd like to be afflicted with instant madness, please be my guest." The Head of the Department of Mysteries warned the raving man, calm and with a small smirk twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Where's the damn Keeper than!? Bring him here!" The Undersecretary spits, obviously at his wit's end.

"Ms. Jones?" The Department Head asks, turning to the young woman at his side. She runs a well-manicured hand through her hair, a small sigh falling from her lips.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Sir." She replies, respectfully and calmly, though the slightest hint of amusement dances along the edges of her words.

With a huff, the Undersecretary turns and stomps from the room, cursing quietly under his breath. Branwen Jones sighs, knowing full well it's highly unlikely that's the last they would see of the incompetent man.

With a final nod to her superior, Branwen turns. Her modest black heels click against the stone floor as she makes her way back to the darkened chamber of the Hall of Prophecy's, curiosity plaguing her every waking thought.

* * *

" _Find her! Find her! Find her!_ I want every available Auror on the job! Locating and procuring this Granger woman takes precedence!" Hector Fawley snarls at the assembled room, spittle flying from his mouth.

All those that notice cringe. Much of the room clears out, only the Department Heads and the Minister himself remaining. Silence reigns over the chamber as the Minister begins to calm down.

* * *

"Our friendship continued to grow. I naively believed that I had found acceptance and finally found my place in the Wizarding World. It was during my Second Year, where I first encountered the prejudice and hatred surrounding my blood status—" Newt's expression softens, the corners of his lips pulling down in a frown. His curious blue eyes are drawn to her exposed forearm, Hermione's ink-stained fingers gently prod the raised silvery flesh.

"The Chamber of Secrets was opened. A young girl was possessed. Students, a cat, and even a ghost were petrified by the ancient beast that slept within the chamber below. Muggle-born, Half-blood, Pure-blood — the divide between our status became all the more evident with each passing day. This was only the beginning—" Newt's breath catches, eyes widening as Hermione continues her tale. Recounting her second year, briefly touching on the Basilisk, her petrification, and Harry's third meeting with this 'Voldemort.'

She doesn't go into much detail, her voice laced with a hysterical edge as she recalls the traumatizing encounter with the Basilisk and the time she spent petrified in the Hospital Wing.

 _There's more to it._ Newt frowns, watching her trembling hands, shaking voice and the far-off look in her eyes.

Few, who had encountered a Basilisk, had lived to tell the tale. Those that had, much like Hermione, were unwilling or unable to explain what it was truly like. Newt had questioned it before, what happened to those who were petrified. Was it as simple as going to sleep or was it far worse? Could she have been awake the entire time? Conscious, but unable to move or speak, unable to do a thing as a Basilisk terrorized the school?

The thought makes him shudder, a chill running through his body as she finishes the tale of her terror-filled Second Year.

"Third year, honestly it wasn't all that bad, considering." Her quiet laugh breaks him from his thoughts, curious blue eyes focusing on the young woman beside him once more.

Newt purses his lips, a sliver of apprehension crawls along his spine. Looking out of the window, Newt's pensive musing encounters the empty, starless night sky . He feels protective of Hermione, a sensation that he just can't shake as it slowly consumes him.

 _She can protect herself._ He snorts, smiling fondly as her steady voice continues to break through the dark night sky.

* * *

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services." The welcome witch announces within the small elevator as the doors slide open.

The Head of the Auror Department steps out into the hallway, striding quickly through the dimly lit corridors, his dark overcoat billowing behind him. A snarl contorts and warps his unusually handsome face.

The Head Auror — Head Auror Shafiq was normally a compassionate and fair man, but after spending almost every waking moment for the last three months conversing with the Minister and other the Heads of the Departments, he is an inch away from snapping. As he draws closer to Auror Headquarters, he brushes his fingers over the curved wood of his wand. Magic sparks in response; he takes a deep breath and slips into a more neutral expression.

Hector Fawley, Minister for Magic. The man was a joke. Despite Grindelwald's capture in New York only months ago, the Wizarding World was still not at peace. It didn't take a genius to reach this conclusion. Every day, the war continues to rage on throughout Europe. Small branches of Grindelwald's army are gaining a foothold, while they all sit around and do nothing to subdue the growing terrorist organization. Though their leader was captured, they had yet to lose hope. It's like they know Grindelwald won't be contained for long. Head Auror Shafiq can't help but agree. Fawley — the idiot he is — pulled nearly every one of his Auror's from their current jobs and missions, overruling his authority, and directing all efforts towards finding one little girl.

 _The fool._ With a sigh, Head Auror Shafiq steps into the Auror Headquarters, smoothing a hand through his close-cropped raven-black hair.

"Sir!" A young man's voice shouts, taking note of his superior's entrance.

The Head Auror looks up, dark weary brown eyes focus on one of their newest recruits who is fast approaching.

"I-It's Auror Scamander, sir." The young recruit stutters before clamming up, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, refusing to meet his superior's gaze.

"Yes, what about him?" Head Auror Shafiq asks with an exasperated sigh, irritation growing with every wasted moment.

"He- Well, you see." The rookie's voice cracks.

"Get on with it Johnson. I'd like to go home at some point today."

"H-He still hasn't returned." Auror Johnson finally spits out before scuttering out of the irked wizard's view.

"Scamander." Head Auror Shafiq growls, pivoting on his heel, overcoat billowing behind him. He stalks back out into the halls in search of his wayward Auror, giving up on any thoughts of going home and getting a good night's rest, yet again.

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Newt begins with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "A werewolf, an escaped convict and a mass murderer disguised as a rat — _'wasn't all that bad'_ — what in the world do you _consider_ to be bad?" He asks a sliver of frustration in his voice.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the pair; a small sigh slips from Hermione's lips.

"Newt." She whispers, hand moving to rest on his cloth covered thigh. "You have to understand - the time I came from, it — I know things aren't all that better, but you have yet to experience the worst of it, the war has yet to begin truly."

Newt glances over to Hermione, her eyes stare dazed on the wall, expression drawn, and teeth worrying at her lips.

 _It won't be long now. In a few short years, it'd get so much worse. Neither the Muggles or the Wizarding World would escape unscathed by the horrors of war - Pre-war London._ She rues. The witch removes her hand from Newt's thigh, and buries her head in her hands, with a shaky breath falling from her lips.

"Pain. Blood. Death. War. No matter when we are…" She mumbles, the quietly spoken words trailing off.

An avalanche of chilling fear crashes into Newt. Hermione's quiet, eerie words disturb him to the bone. A feeling of dread threatening to choke the life from him.

 _So many will die, Muggle, Wizard; the cost would be so very high—_ Hermione sinks into the chair, dropping her hands to her sides. _I can't do a thing about it, the Muggle World, the coming war - Grindelwald and Dumbledore - Can I even—_

Her thoughts cut short when Newt lays his hand over hers, fingers intertwining together. Heat sparks into life upon contact, the tension in her shoulders, and the headache building between her eyes melts away instantly. Hermione's expression softens, the pair letting out a contented sigh.

 _Come what may, you can't save them all. Can't change everything. Just do what you can and try to live._ Her mind whispers, floating away with a gentle breeze.

* * *

"Newt" Theseus Scamander growls, a string of curses flow from his mouth as he kicks at the wall, irked beyond reckoning.

 _Another dead end._

Theseus Scamander, a war hero, a well-respected member of society and an infamous Auror. Throw him in the middle of a warzone or duel, and he'd almost always be the victor — calm and level-headed, Theseus _rarely_ lost his temper. That being said, there was one person, _one_ single person that could make him lose his head.

"What have you done now, little brother." Theseus sighs, his question echoing down the dingy, darkened alleyway. Mind speeding a million miles an hour as he attempts to narrow down the list of tips he had received over the past few days.

 _Paranoid little bugger._ It wasn't difficult to find Newt. Just follow the reports of a madman with a case, and any mention of incidents involving magical beasts and you'd roughly pinpoint his location at any given time. However, the news had been decidedly slow as of late. They knew Newt and his companion are in England, but the Ministry had been unable to track them down. For once, it seemed as though Newt was on his very best behaviour.

There was no news of wild rampaging creatures. No mention of a madman with a case. Not even a _whisper_ of Newt's new, wild-haired companion's whereabouts. More to the point, it seemed as though whenever his brother appeared in public, he made great efforts to cover his tracks. Purposely letting them spot him in various parts of London, and taking care to direct all attention away from whatever his apartments current location may be.

The two brothers had a relatively good relationship, but they weren't as close as they could be, that's true. Theseus's life was here, while Newt couldn't seem to resist the call of adventure. Often setting off in search of the most majestic creatures, travelling to the farthest corners of the world, vanishing from the world for months at a time. Because of Newt's wanderlust, Theseus had yet to see his new apartment.

 _He can't hide from me forever._ Theseus takes a deep breath, straightens his overcoat, and tugs at his sleeves. Exiting the alleyway, he steps out into the quiet street, setting off in search of his brother's current whereabouts, and the woman he may very well be hiding there.

* * *

"Fourth year, Voldemort, he finally returned. Any semblance of peace was nearly gone." Hermione hush, filled with emotion, tears gathering in her eyes. "Harry - he didn't ask for it – he never wanted to be the figurehead for the coming war. He was just a boy, a _child_ , we all were, and yet there it was. The tentative peace was crumbling away. The Darkest Wizard of our time had returned and what little childhood we had was swiftly torn from our hands."

Hermione's fingers tighten around Newt's own, a teardrop tears its way down her heated cheek.

"The public, the Ministry, they refused to believe that he had returned. Voldemort's original rise to power was an extremely dark time for the Wizarding world, full of fear, mistrust, death and heavy losses. It wasn't a surprise when people chose not to believe as history began to repeat itself once more, so they trusted the Ministry, who attempted to discredit Harry and Dumbledore, calling them liars and madmen, painting them in a negative light. As a result of Dumbledore and Harry's claims, the Ministry, in all its infinite wisdom, decided to place one of their own within the halls of Hogwarts." A viscous look curls her lips then. "A pompous, pink monstrosity of a woman with her head shoved so far up the Ministers ar—"

A loud cough cuts her tirade short, her angry gaze instantly snapping to Newt, he meets Hermione's gaze with one of his own a single brow quirked.

With a nervous chuckle, the time traveller forces herself to calm, sucking great gulps of air into her lungs before blowing them out in a steady stream, clenched fists relaxing, features smoothing.

"Ah. Well, she was a ruthless, opportunistic, and power-hungry woman," Hermione says with a small feminine cough, choosing to ignore her previous tirade, pushing forward once more.

* * *

"Ah" The delighted note falls from Theseus's lips as he stares at the slightly shimmering wards before him, finally visible thanks to a tricky bit of advanced magic. He recognizes his younger brother's magical signature with ease, but there was another magical signature intertwined with his.

 _Hermione Granger, I assume. She's a powerful witch._ He deduces. A triumphant smile pulling at his lips as he reaches out with his magic, gently caressing the edges of the wards, testing them.

With baited breath, he waits. When no alarm sounds, his smile grows bigger, he picks at the wards more aggressively, meeting little resistance. The triumphant-giddy smile never once leaving his face as he gets to work breaking down the rather impressive set of wards surrounding his younger brother's apartment.

 _Good to see some things never change._ Theseus muses. Tendrils of his brother's magic touch his own, reacting and accepting the familiar magic, seeing no malicious motives from the newcomer.

* * *

"You really are terrifying, brilliant yes, but _absolutely_ terrifying at times." Newt relents with a sigh, feeling far older than his age as the woman before him continues to weave her tale.

An angelic laugh falls from Hermione's lips at his words. It sounds far too innocent given all he's now learned about the woman, her brown eyes bright as their gazes meet.

"Ronald often said something along those lines." She says, her smile suddenly vanishes as her eyes grow dark. Trepidation runs up Newt's spine, realizing her story is about to take a darker turn. "On the 18th of June, 1996 the first major conflict of the Second Wizarding War took place within the Department of Ministries. Voldemort lured Harry away from the school with a false vision, he was convinced his Godfather was in danger and refused to wait or listen to reason, rushing head first into danger again. Not keen on letting him go alone, Ron and I along with our friends: Ginny, Luna and Neville followed his lead. Arriving at the Ministry, we were cornered by a dozen Death Eaters. It was an trap."

Colour bleeds away from Hermione's face. Her hand begins to trembles.

"It was terrifying, my first _real_ battle – Life-threatening challenges, a Basilisk loose in the school, werewolves, a murderer masquerading as our pet, twisted teachers, a death tournament and the illegal use of a time turner were _nothing_ compared to the horror's we were about to face. We were little more than children, and they were _brutal_ , shooting to kill and maim with little care for our age or experience. Somehow, _somehow_ we managed to fend off the Death Eaters, just long enough for help to arrive. The cost of victory was high. None of us came out of the battle unscathed. I have the scar to prove it and Sirius—" A whimper rips from her lips, tears streaming once more, as her fingers trace the tail end of the scar, peeking out just above the collar of her shirt.

"Who? How?" Newt asks, fill with a touch of dread as his gentle, calloused fingers brushing against hers, stopping her from clawing at her skin.

"Dolohov." She hisses, voice laced to the brim with her seething rage and regrets swirling within her.

Newt breathes out a sigh of relief, thankful that it wasn't Lestrange. If only he knew.

Without warning, the wards drop with a faint whine. Newt and Hermione shudder as they sense the last of their protection being stripped away.

Both perking up at the sudden threat, they shoot to their feet, bodies angled to the door. Newt blocks Hermione partially from view by standing in front of her.

With a deep breath, hands still trembling, Hermione wipes the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Lips pressed together in a determined line, her vine wood wand sliding into her hand. Her magic sings.

The doorknob jiggles, the locks still in place. The sound of metal sliding against metal sounds in the quiet room around them as the door's unlocked.

 _A wizard?_ Hermione shoves down the memories and the emotional turmoil Newt and her had shared only moments before, wand raised high, hand now steady, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

The door handle jiggles again, before the doors gives way and Newt and Hermione are met with the sight of empty space.

"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, what would Mother say if she could see you now. Living in sin with a woman you hardly know, the celebrated hero of the Wizarding world." A masculine voice echoes from the hallway, the amusement, and exasperation clear in his words.

Newt sighs, lowering his wand. He turns to Hermione, resting a hand on top her wand hand as he urges her to do the same.

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but the words die on her parted lips when he gives her a reassuring smile. She drops her hand after a moment's hesitation, curiosity filling her dark brown eyes as Newt turns to the door once more.

"She'd probably be amused by the entire situation." Newt laughs as a handsome man steps into view, causally walking into the room. His colouring and frame so very similar to Newt's own with a dark overcoat dancing about his build.

"Theseus Scamander, Newt's older brother." The man bows, a trace of amusement in his voice, as his familiar blue eyes meet Hermione's curious gaze. A hint of laughter dancing in his eyes as he takes note of her quirked brow and tense stance.

 _Two of them, just what I need._ Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes as her shoulders slumps down, tension melting away.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Kavernista: Ahhh! Glad I wasn't the only one crying :)

Mystic707: Hmmm I imagine he will meet them again at some point... not entirely sure when as of yet but they will meet again! Hmmm good question (Bellatrix)... she may. That's all I can give you at the moment since it's still a few years until her birth in the timeline and I have yet to fully decide how much I want to cover, in depth after the events with Grindelwald.

EliexChan: Ehhh I know right?! Newt and Hermione are being dinks! I really want them to talk a bit more and grow closer in an organic and natural way... it made sense that Hermione would begin to open up a bit first... though I imagine Newt may have to come clean about a few things pretty soon as well! Hopefully after sharing some difficult memories and info they'll grow even closer. I actually think i've read your fic before... the title sounds familiar! I'll check it out though (possibly for a second time) and give you a review or message when I do!


	21. Hall of Prophecy

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Sooo! Here you go! Have a new chapter! Hope you enjoy all of the new characters and such. Btw... hate prophecies... hate them so much but that scene with the Prophecies a few chapters ago... just had to write it... too good to pass up. As always thank you everyone for the reviews, messages and continued interest! Really hope I don't dissapoint!

Also, thank you to Nyxie for editing this guy and fixing it up, as well as reworking the Prophecy to be a bit more cryptic... despite the fact i'm a stubborn arse who wanted to keep it simplified and all sorts of rhyme-y... Soooo if anyone thinks it's too simple and straight forward that was all my stubborn arse's fault.

Anywho! Next chapters coming along pretty well! Look forward to it! Personal responses at the bottom.

* * *

"I see you're growing out your facial hair once again. Mother would be horrified." Newt sips on his fresh cup of tea, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Hermione barely manages to contain the giggles threatening to spill from her lips as the two brothers bicker. Their lanky frames looking cramped on the transfigured loveseat and the small, delicate teacups looking far too small for their large hands.

"I think there's little that could _truly_ horrify Mother." Theseus counters with a smirk of his own curving his lips.

After the shock of Theseus's arrival, the trio eased into a comfortable rhythm. The stress and tension from their earlier conversation quickly melting away, thanks to the inclusion of the high-spirited young man.

It was easy to see that the two brothers got on quite well. Hermione's intelligent brown eyes took in the newcomer, registering everything she notices as the two brothers continue to squabble.

Short, copper brown hair laying mostly flat on his head with the slightest hint of curl noticeable at the tips. His pale complexion — similar to Newt's — slightly darkened by the generous spattering of freckles across his striking features and that rust-coloured stubble along his jaw. Vivid blue eyes that mirror Newt's own were focused entirely on his younger brother.

Hermione's unable deduce his current occupation by his style of dress alone, but he's dressed sophisticatedly. Unlike Newt, Theseus' attire looks tasteful enough for him to blend into a crowd easily, either in the Muggle or Wizard World. Though, his dark overcoat is especially impressive. She struggles to hold back a sigh, all of her research before her fall through time had only mentioned this man in passing.

 _I always did like a well-dressed man… Can I trust him?_ Hermione's fingers tighten around the warm teacup. Her eyes drawn to the smooth, light-coloured wand with little adornment on the table.

She narrows her eyes, unconsciously leaning forward to examine it more closely, unfamiliar with the type of wood. Seeing that they are distracted, her ink-stained fingers brush gently against the smooth wood. A small gasp falling from her lips as the magic contained within gently brushes against her own in greeting, unknown to her the two brothers have fallen silent, two pairs of curious blue eyes watching her.

"Manners, Ms. Granger. Don't you know it's quite rude to touch another Witch or Wizard's wand without their permission?" Theseus's amused voice breaks the silence in the room, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.

Letting out a startled squeak, the young time travelling witch's head snaps up, wild hair dancing behind her in a whirlwind. A blazing trail of crimson swiftly spreading across her cheeks as she gnaws at her lip, thoroughly embarrassed to have been caught red-handed.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." Theseus' eyes meet hers; wiggling his brows with that smirk on his face.

Wide-eyed and shocked by his brother's words, Newt chokes on his tea. He sets it aside before he drops it with a groan. His head lulls into his hands, as a sharp bark falls from Hermione's lips.

* * *

A thunderclap crack sounds throughout the empty, darkened alleyway. A dark-skinned man now stands alone in the shadows. His shrewd eyes dart around, tense and alert despite the late hour.

With an irritated sigh, Head Auror Shafiq relaxes, glancing up into the bottomless black sky. His eyes flutter shut, focusing again on his subordinate's magical signature, before another crack of thunder echoes through the empty alleyway as he Disapparates away.

* * *

"Hmmm, Vine, a personality with hidden depths, a witch with a greater purpose—" Theseus muses, talking to himself as he examines Hermione's wand, turning it over once more in his hands.

Hermione struggles to swallow the frog in her throat. Theseus's examination reminding her far too much of her interrogation with the man claiming to be Graves.

"Have you become an expert in wandlore whilst I was away?" Newt asks, brow quirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Hermione's discomfort under Theseus' inspection; his lips twitch downwards just a hint.

A sharp laugh tears from his brother's lips as he sets the wand on the table. Long fingers, reverently stroking the carved wood with a curious twinkle in his eye. Tension seems to bleed out from Hermione, features smoothing. Newt feels as though he can breathe easier seeing her ease.

"Hardly. It was nothing more than a passing fancy. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to do a bit of reading. It's curious, though," Theseus begins, looking to Hermione, brows furrowed in thought. "Our magic reacts to one another quite well, even as I was dismantling the wards your signature did little to stop me. Newt's I can understand, but yours…"

The thought trails off, a question hanging in the air.

"The core?" He asks; eyes falling back to her wand, now laid beside his own.

"Dragon Heartstring." She whispers, her voice laced with gravel. The witch, sitting before them, can't shake the feeling of unease that fills her at Theseus's words.

"Curiouser and curiouser." The older man muses, eyes snapping up to meet Hermione's dread filled gaze.

"Care to share?" Newt asks with an irritated edge in his tone.

"Oh, I have no idea what any of it means," Theseus admits in a cheerful voice as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, completely unaware of the inner turmoil churning within his two companions. "Not the slightest clue, though—" His sharp, blue eyes fall on Newt's own. "I imagine, it has something to do with you."

Silence suffocates them. Hermione's pulse quickens, resisting the urge to take back her wand, her magic just begging to be released. Her essence screams for a way to release the flood of emotions soaring within her now.

Newt and Hermione refuse to meet one another's gaze, something Theseus is quick to spot. He raises a brow.

"Care to share?" Theseus asks with a hint of amusement, his words a mimicry of his brother's only moments before.

"Not particularly." Newt's words are muffled by the teacup, pressed tight against his mouth. Cerulean blue eyes dart about the room, never settling as his pale, freckled cheeks colour.

Theseus's brows climb ever higher, looking as though they're on their way to disappearing into his hairline at this rate.

"Are congratulations in order? Should I be expecting any mini Magizoologists running around anytime—"

"Theseus!" Newt interjects, his cheeks redden a blushing rose, startling Hermione; his brother quietly smirks in response.

"Did you elope in a far-off country?" Newt shoots him an exasperated glare. "Encounter a cursed object?" Newt shakes his head. "Perhaps found yourself magically bound like in those fairy tales mother read to us as children?" Theseus teases. His smirk evaporating very quickly when they stare, in shock and realization.

Silence falls upon them once more. Theseus' eyes bounce between the pair, his curiosity escalating by the second. He notices the way Hermione's eyes light up in thought, lips pursed tight, teacup frozen mid-sip as the wheels in her mind churn with vigour.

"I-It was a joke." Theseus stumbles, apologetic and confused. He looks to his younger brother.

Newt looks deep in thought as well, brows furrowed, still as a statue with his sharp blue eyes staring steadfastly at a wall, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

"Newt," Theseus' voice shakes. A beat and his brother finally turns to meet his gaze. "What in the world have you done now?"

With those final words, silence descends, the trio losing themselves in thought.

* * *

"Curious, isn't it?" A steady voice echoes down the shadowed row of the Hall of Prophecies.

Branwen jumps, a frightened shriek just barely stopping at the tip of her tongue as she turns to face her superior, the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies. With wide brown eyes, she watches him reach past her, a single weathered-aged hand grasping the inconspicuous lightly glowing orb.

With baited breath, she waits and watches, thoroughly aware of his ability to handle the orbs, but apprehensive nonetheless.

"Sir?" She asks under her breath, watching as he examines the orb, intrigued.

"What would you say this prophecy contains, Ms. Jones?" He breathes; raising a finger when Branwen open her mouth to answer. "Only one word, if you please."

Branwens brows crease in thought, unsurprised by her superior's question, well acquainted with his occasionally odd requests and games.

"Words."

"Indeed." He muses with a gravelly laugh. "Words. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, words have power. This is all the truer in the Wizarding World, here, within the dark Hall of Prophecies. Especially, the words held within these orbs. These words hold great power. And why is that?"

"Mag—" Branwen answers quickly but stops herself, realizing the real answer. "Fate."

The man laughs, grey eyes focused on the orb.

"Either answer would suffice, my dear. To us, Magic is a fact. Fate, however, such an abstract concept, yet here we stand surrounded by the Fate's design. Many prophecies exist, all of which, rest here now. Many fulfilled, some remain dormant while others, have been lost to the unrelenting stream of time. However, very few carry enough weight to truly shift the tides. Often hastening, but never once going against Fate's design. But this," Branwen gazes deeply into the blue-tinged orb, drawn to the flickering blue flames contained within; curious open, and eager for knowledge.

"What do you believe, is held within this odd little orb?" He asks, setting it back on the shelf, folding his hands behind his back. The Keeper's grey eyes unsettling her as her mind tries to string together an answer.

"Change." She answers, barely above a whisper. The word echoes around them, the prophecies within their glass confines quake with fear.

A flame flickers and the smallest crack appears. The heavens, themselves, watch the act with baited breath.

Silence reigns firm. A haunting echo of a time that had yet to come, chilling its occupants to the bone.

* * *

 _Magically bound._ Hermione wonders, glancing over to the brothers who are sitting in deathly silence, side by side on the transfigured loveseat.

With a sigh, Theseus leans forward, setting his cold tea to the side. Vexed, he meets Hermione's pensive gaze.

"You can't be serious. What in the world could make you both clam up like this? Magically bound..." He snorts, "it's a myth, nothing more than romantic fairy tales that young witches tell their children before they go to bed." Theseus proclaims with determined disbelief in his eyes. Though, there is a slight tremor in his voice, revealing his apprehension, Hermione notes.

"Fiction, fairy tales, myths. It wouldn't be the first time that there was truth to be found in fiction, revealing a truth that reality obscured." Hermione criticizes offhandedly as she gets to her feet, making her way to her bag, rummaging around then retrieving a small hardcover book before resetting the bag's protections.

The brothers watch; Theseus confused and intrigued while Newt's face is ashen, dreading what unknown horrors that mind of hers is currently exploring.

Swiftly returning to her seat, she tosses the hardcover book onto the table, the book landing with a soft little thud.

 _'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'_

Theseus wants to laugh, staring at Hermione as though she's mad, thinking his brother may very well have found a woman that was as odd as he, himself, is.

A scathing look silences him. The bushy-haired woman leans forward, flipping through the pages until she stops, pushing the open book closer to the waiting pair.

 _'The Tale of the Three Brothers'_

Theseus's eyebrows shoot up, amusement dancing in his eyes. Newt lets out a shaky breath, his mind running at a million miles an hour.

"You're both familiar with the story?" Hermione assumes with a calm and steady tone, though her tension is evident.

"It's a fairy tale, nothing more—" Theseus trails off with a laugh, unable to restrain himself any longer, leaning back, shoulders relaxing, mirth clear in his eyes.

"Is it?" She concurs. The war hero falls silent at her question; a sliver of fear hurls through both of the brothers with those two short words.

"Hermione?" Newt raises his head. Blue meets brown eyes. A single glance is all the confirmation he needs.

Truth weaved into the fanciful tale. Hidden behind carefully weighted words, _'The Tale of the Three Brothers'_ was no fairy tale.

Newt shudders, head falling into the palm of his hands as a sigh falls from his parted lips.

Theseus contemplates the pair, disbelief clear, determined that they're both mad.

"Which part?" Newt questions, muffled and barely audible by his hands.

"The Gifts. The three gifts the brothers received: the wand, the cloak, and the stone." She replies, voice equally low.

"What are they?" Hermione bites her lip, pauses. Uncertain about revealing the truth, her eyes flicker to Theseus. His presence is the cause of her hesitation. She ponders for a moment, then with her mind made up, she breathes deeply.

"They're the Deathl-" Her words are cut short when the door blows open, torn from its hinges, wood cracking and splintering under the impact of an advanced blasting spell.

The trio quickly arms themselves, bracing for a fight. With baited breath, they wait.

A tall, dark-skinned man trails into the room, curved wand drawn, dark cloak billowing behind him.

He paints an impressive picture.

Theseus moves first, dropping his wand to the side, stepping forward to meet the man.

"Dominic?" He addresses the man, shocked and a little confused.

"That's _Head Auror Shafiq_ to you, Auror Scamander. This isn't a social call." Dominic Shafiq commands, looking to Theseus from the corner of his eye, wand hand steady, pointed directly at Hermione.

 _Danger._ Her mind screams, fingers tightening around the hilt of her wand, sliding a leg behind her as she gets into position, her fears finally coming true.

"Hermione Granger, I take it." Dominic focuses on the wild-haired woman, ignoring the Scamander brothers as he advances. Her wand sparks, Magic begging to retaliate, it does little to halt his approach.

"I must say, you and Mr. Scamander here are a tricky pair to find."

"And I must say, I'm a little disappointed that an entire task force isn't here to bring me in."

Dominic Shafiq laughs, the tension in his shoulders and stance melting away although his wand hand remains raised. He smiles broadly despite the exhaustion.

Hermione refuses to relax even for a second. Danger teasing her senses, radiating from the Auror.

"Did you _have_ to use so much force?" She asks, an exasperated tone entering her voice.

"Admittedly, I may have used more force than necessary." He relents, wand hand relaxing slightly, looking back to the door. "It's been a stressful few months, and I honestly had no idea what was awaiting me behind this door." He looks to Theseus from the corner of his eye. "I was tracking Auror Scamander here and had no idea what sort of trouble he had gotten himself into."

Hermione glances at Theseus, seeing his somewhat bashful expression, a single brow raised in question.

"Now then, what do you say we take a little trip." At the Head Auror's words, Hermione sighs, fingers tightening around her wand once more.

 _Not bloody likely._ She can't help but think, wand still at the ready, stance tense once more.

* * *

They had managed to avoid a duel, thanks to Theseus and Newt's timely intervention. They came to an agreement, Hermione eventually agreeing to be brought in, so long as the brothers could accompany her and she was allowed to keep her wand.

After fixing the entrance of Newt's apartment, they left as the dawn began to break, hastily making their way to the Ministry. Once there, they headed straight for the Minister's Office. However, the Minister himself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a plump sort of man with a bushy brown moustache met them in his stead.

 _The Undersecretary._ Hermione's lips instantly curled at the title, once more reminded of the political climate during her time.

An argument then ensued, in which the Head Auror was forced to do damage control.

It would seem that no matter the time, no matter the place, the incompetence of those that ruled the Wizarding populace knew no bounds.

Hermione could do little more than groan at this unsurprising turn of events.

* * *

"I'll ask again, is she under arrest?" The Head of the Department of Mysteries repeats; the moustached man growing irritated with each passing second.

Hermione bites back a laugh as the Undersecretary stutters and starts, his plump face rapidly turning purple, bushy brown moustache quivering. From the corner of her eye, she watches as the Head Auror smirks, covering his mouth with a hand in an attempt to remain professional, despite the ridiculous conversation taking place before them.

"As I thought. Wouldn't do to go around arresting one of the new heroes of the Wizarding World now, would it?" The Department Head muses, undoubtedly amused with the situation. His deep dislike towards the Undersecretary shows through the way he deliberately pushes his buttons.

It's quite obvious that most care not for this man or even the current acting Minister and his outrageous demands.

 _Hector Fawley, Current Minister for Magic_. Hermione snarls, eyes darkening, frown pulling at her lips.

Wizards, they never learned. No matter the time or place, those elected into office always had a terrible track record of being grossly incompetent and borderline dangerous. Was it so hard to elect a fair and intelligent Witch or Wizard into office here in Britain?

Within moments, Hermione and Newt were brought up to speed on the current state of the Ministry. The high-ranking bureaucrats were running around like headless chickens, barking orders left, right and centre while they sat comfortably in their safe offices, showing little shame for dragging the hard working Aurors away from their essential duties. All to save the Ministry's reputation.

 _Nothing's changed in the least._

Hermione and Newt are heroes in the eyes of the public. It really would reflect poorly on the Minister if he had them arrested, just as the Department Head said. However, the Minister, himself, and many other high-ranking officials put little stock in public opinion, believing them to be nothing more than international troublemaking criminals, a pair of glory hogs who desired to undermine the great British Ministry of Magic.

Hermione groans in her mind once more, recalling the conversation they had only moments before as they made their way into the Department of Mysteries.

A prophecy had been made, yet no one could make sense of the exact date it had been spoken. The tag was smudged, and whatever information was recorded was eventually lost to time. However, a single name could be made out from the degraded tag, written in aged scrawl was—

"Hermione Jean Granger." A steady, age-weathered voice suddenly breaks through the disagreement, pulling Hermione from her thoughts and silencing the bickering men.

The group turns, watching the newcomers as they enter the room.

"Hermione will do or Ms. Granger, if you prefer." She relents, curious of the elderly wizard who had spoken. His long white beard and aged face reminding her very much of a certain Headmaster.

"Ms. Granger." He acknowledges with a slight nod of his head.

"Alfred Williams, Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies." The old man introduces, giving Hermione a short bow before directing her attention to the young woman at his side. "And this young woman is Branwen Jones, my assistant and the one present during the incident recorded months ago."

Hermione nods her head to both in greeting; Keeper Williams turns to the men.

"I believe you and the Minister were told that young Ms. Granger here, and whoever she chose to accompany her, were to be brought directly to me." Williams reprimands, sharply, a steely edge in his eyes.

The bumbling moustached man stutters, mouth opening and closing in a memorable impression of purple-faced goldfish.

"More to the point, it is a well-known fact that the choice of who overhears any given Prophecy is left _solely_ to the subject or subjects of said Prophecy. This is the Department of Mysteries _boy_ , we bow to none. Although we may work within the Ministry, we care very little for the rule and laws that govern men, adhering only to those that align with our very own wants and needs." Silence envelopes them. Hermione quirks a brow, the corners of her lips pulling up.

"Ms. Granger." Keeper Williams addresses.

"Yes, sir?"

"Despite these facts, it is highly unlikely we will be able to get away with banishing the lot of them, given your recent well-known status and the current interest regarding your person. I am afraid you must choose one of these officials to join us as we overhear the prophecy, an Auror perhaps?" He says, his grey eyes taking on the slightest twinkle. "I will leave the choice in your capable hands." With those final words, he bows one last time and turns to leave with Ms. Jones hot on his heels. Together, they enter the darkened rows of the Hall of Prophecies, leaving Hermione to her decision.

* * *

Hermione takes a deep shuddering breath.

From the corner of Newts eye, he can see how uncomfortable she truly is. However, despite his dislike for her discomfort, there is little he can do at the moment. Lips thin and eyes narrow, the group make their way through the labyrinth of shelves within the hall.

"It was the oddest thing. After reporting the incident to Keeper Williams, my suspicions were confirmed. Never before, since the beginning of the Department had there been a similar incident." Branwen explains, her excitement palpable. She walks behind Hermione and Newt, arm looped through Theseus's own as the small group follows the Keeper leading them through the maze.

Keeper Williams had been correct. The Ministry, never one to leave any pie left untouched, refused to allow her to receive the Prophecy without the presence of one of their own. Between the two bickering idiots, Head Auror Shafiq and Theseus, there was no other choice.

 _Should've made them make an Unbreakable Vow first._ Hermione sighs; well aware of the fact that she could do no such thing, brown eyes darting about the room as she fights against the wisps of memories, slowly forming within her mind, without her consent.

"It was beautiful and terrifying." A small smile pulls at Newt's face at the description. He glances to the troubled woman on his arm, curiosity filling him as he takes in her dazed expression. "The row was completely bathed in an ethereal blue light, brighter than any I had ever seen before. I was careful to avoid touching the orb myself and tried to read the tag, but much of the information was eroded, though I could make out one name: Hermione Jean Granger. At the time, I was confused. My research led me nowhere, it really - Right well, orbs began to shatter, one by one, prophecies unravelling right before my very eyes, erased permanently from the Fate's tapestry. I was terrified. I ran from the hall and didn't once stop until I reached Keeper Williams—"

"What day was that?" Theseus interrupts. Hermione's lips to turn down in a deep frown, his words barely registering through the fog clouding her mind.

"I-We believe it was the very same day that your brother and Ms. Granger here assisted in the defeat and capture of the international war criminal, Grindelwald."

Hermione and Newt freeze in their tracks as chills run down their spines. Realizing something's wrong, Theseus and Branwen abruptly stop. A startled cry tearing itself from the young woman's lips as she stumbles. Theseus catches her before she's able to fall into one of the glass filled shelves. He beams a charming smile as he helps her regain her footing, a smile that had caused many a witch to swoon and sigh before sending an exasperated look at his brothers back.

Suddenly his expression changes, alarm flooding his eyes as he remembers their earlier conversation.

The Keeper turns, a knowing expression on his face. Silently, he urges them to continue forward.

Within moments, they arrive at their destination, standing in front of one of the hundred identical rows of shelves.

The Prophecy taunts Hermione with its glowing blue flame as it dances within it's glass confines, the flame so very similar to her favoured bluebell spell. The group is silent, their anticipation and apprehension clear.

"You need only grab it." Keeper Williams intones.

"I know what to do." Hermione retorts, voice thick with emotion as the memories of her last visit to the Hall of Prophecies wages an unseen war within her mind, a haunted expression in her dark brown eyes.

With a shaking hand, she reaches out, fingers stopping a hairs breadth away.

Hermione flinches at the touch of a warm, calloused hand, slipping into her own laying limp by her side. She takes a quick glance to Newt out of the corner of her eye. The familiar, comforting warmth spreads from where their skin touches, relaxing and soothing her frayed nerves.

A soft sigh falls from her lips. The discreet scene witnessed only by a curious set of aged-grey eyes. Neither notice the glint of recognition as Hermione pushes forward, gently palming the glowing orb, holding it close to her chest.

 _It's warm._ She notes as the flames within begin to swirl, milky white smoke obscuring the glow as an image takes form.

A pale young woman with bushy blonde hair sits within the orb, her eyes unseeing, lost in a trance. Her voice monotonous as she begins to speak, the eerie lilt breaking the silence that surrounds them.

 _"Born of mud, she with the lion heart roars_

 _The babe cries out as magic builds in her core_

 _A childhood lost, a war to be won_

 _There is much that must yet be done_

 _A prophecy made, may yet come undone_

 _For her journey through time has not yet begun"_

Hermione groans, her secret now revealed and out in the open. She prays to any who will listen that all those listening, here and now, know the meaning of _discretion_ as Newt's fingers tighten around hers once more. The heat gathering there doing little to fight the chill that descends upon her heart.

 _"Daughter of the future, thrown into the past_

 _Must relive the time that is long gone and past_

 _The red string of fate, spun and tethered_

 _Embraces the witch, certain and unsevered_

 _Linger not, dear child, for you must make haste_

 _Do not let this chance go to waste_

 _As Magic flares and sings, two shall become one_

 _Yet do not try to outrun the sun_

 _The Sun will set, and Dusk will fall_

 _A song will be sung, the darkness will call"_

Theseus's brows vanish into his hairline, mouth falling open in shock as he connects the pieces, his alarmed blue eyes looking to the pair before him. Worry filling him to the brim as he examines his younger brother and the woman standing by his side, eyes falling on their joined hands. He forces down the lump in his throat, unaware of the woman beside him taking in his every expression and move, a curious expression filling her delicate features.

 _"The Nemean Witch will find her mate_

 _Gods have spoken and spun their fate_

 _Anchored in time, magics bound_

 _The flow of time has come unwound_

 _Rewind, recast as events fray at the seams_

 _The truth is not as it first may seem_

 _Not all that has happened will come to pass_

 _As the gathering darkness begins to amass_

 _A call to arms as the darkness falls_

 _The choice remains, if she answers its call_

 _Heed thy warning, lest they fail_

 _Not all can be changed, no matter the scale_

 _There must be balance, a price to be paid_

 _Lest the warrior witch be entirely unmade_

 _Heed thy warning…_

 _Born of mud, she with the lion heart roars"_

With those final, ominous words the orb grows dark, the image waning as the blue flame dims until finally it's snuffed out as though by a gentle breeze. The small globe grows cold in Hermione's hands. The creaking sound of glass cracking under pressure surrounds them before pops and shatters fill their ears.

All but Hermione and Newt search frantically for the noise, their companions fearful and alert with their raised voices, wands in hand.

An audible groan falls from her lips as she continues to stare into the now darkened orb.

"A prophecy. Of course, there's a _buggering_ prophecy." She mumbles, catching Newt's attention, the two share a look. The prophecy tumbling from her hands as Newt pulls her into his chest, arms tightening about her waist. Hugging her close as she continues to mumble and curse. Their companions hush as they acknowledge them. Emotion from every end of the spectrum flit across their faces, the most prominent feeling: dread and trepidation.

* * *

 **Author Notes** :Mystic707: Oh i'm sure thinking that will happen... doubt her description will be as intense as the actual memory that Queenie saw (god I miss Queenie) but it will be happening.

EliexChan: Nah nah. They're good, just don't see each other all that much! I imagine the Minister is very concerned with his appearance and takes what Hermione and Newt did as a slight against both him and the Ministry... not to mention he's quite peeved that they've been avoiding him, the public and reporting the incident to the British Ministry I imagine... I imagine the Ministry is pretty similar to how it is in the future... maybe a little less evil though... Right?! All the good (well not actually good) stuff starts to happen after their 4th-mid 5th year... poor Newt might go into shock!

DelusionalPumpkinPie: Hmmm that would be interesting... though i'm not sure I have a good enough handle on Credence's character to make them BFF's... who knows though, have yet to decide when to bring him back into the story yet. Making it up as I go... so you know...

kaitlin2515: hmmmm I certainly agree that would be a useful skill for her to have. But the issue being... why doesn't she already know it? She eats knowledge up, she knows there are people who can get into people's minds. Sooo why didn't she learn it already? Who could teach her? Would she truly trust anyone to teach her? Could she actually master it? It would certainly be useful but I hesitate to add it in for those reasons and the fact that I really don't want to make her perfect and super skilled and powerful.

K: Now I really, really want to add that in somewhere in the future ;P Would be hilarious!


	22. The Minister for Magic

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** BAM! Chapter 22!

Thank you all for the continued interest/ support/ reviews! Love them all! Personal responses at the bottom.

As always, thank you to Nyxie for continuing to be an excellent Beta and dealing with me all the time! Woooo!

Also Valentine's day is tomorrow. Happy Valentine's Day to you all from here in Canada! I personally intend to spend the day writing, painting and maybe binge-ing a tv show on Netflix... I am the Queen of Self love... mind you writing may be a bit of a headache considering the conversation I intend to tackle next chapter... awe well! Anywho enjoy!

* * *

Hermione's silence was beginning to unnerve Newt.

It had been over an hour since they witnessed the prophecy and left the hall. Honestly, Newt didn't know how long they spent sequestered away in the chamber, but it seemed as though it had taken at least that long. Leaving the Hall of Prophecies, upon entering the Department of Mysteries central atrium, they were accosted by a group of Aurors, with Hector Fawley himself, leading them as the bumbling moustached man looked on with a gleeful expression.

The Head of the Department looked away, guilty, but his eyes stabbed piercing glares into the Minister and the Undersecretary. His opinion clear, sending an apologetic look to the returning group.

Noticeably, it seemed that Head Auror Shafiq, himself, was physically restrained by his subordinates, the very Aurors under his command with a pair of shackles, binding his hands in front of his body, an Auror hanging on either arm. His lip bloody and torn, as though their alteration had become quite physical.

Hermione stayed silent as the Aurors cautiously advanced. All of them giving their full attention to the bushy haired woman, vigilantly aware of her magical capabilities and duelling prowess. Newt was tempted to scoff, utter fools they were for ignoring the others in their group. Though, it would seem Hermione was their main target.

Keeper Williams and Ms. Jones were questioned by one of the Ministers underlings to the side. Their conversation became a stern reproach, which didn't appear to register much with either of the two, before shooing them away.

To the other side, Theseus was restrained and bound before having his wand confiscated, all the while looking to the Head Auror in question. He stopped resisting, accepting his fate with stoic grace after receiving a sharp look and the slightest shake of his head from Shafiq.

Newt couldn't help his rising worry and shock as they quietly and quickly restrained Hermione and him. She was strangely compliant during the arrest; an Auror seized their wands before being leading them away into the busy halls of the Ministry. Newt's worry for the woman was eating away at his senses.

Smartly dressed witches and wizards swiftly made way for the group. Stares, suspicion and whispers of gossip following their every step, and yet still Hermione said and did nothing, allowing herself to be pulled along by the arm, that dazed expression never once leaving her normally brilliant brown eyes.

The press would have a field day. Two high-ranking Aurors and the latest heroes of the Wizarding World, bound and shackled, paraded through the halls like bottom-barrel criminals.

Clearly, the Ministry was unaware of the definition of _discretion_. The Minister led the way, smiling to all those they passed, offering small waves as he put on his most charming front, completely ignoring the possible consequences of their actions if the press caught wind of their current predicament.

After months of comfortable peace, Hermione and Newt were thrust into the limelight once more. The Heroes of the Wizarding World Unmasked.

Those comforting, quiet days had met a rather tragic end.

It wasn't their day.

* * *

 _It just isn't my day._ Tina Goldstein stares steadfastly ahead, refusing to meet Grindelwald's unsettling gaze.

She holds back a sigh as silence reigns in the room. The Aurors stationed beside her shift uncomfortably on their feet. Tina purses her lips, irritation painting her features as her eyes settle on Madam Picquery's back, who sits directly across the cold slab table from Grindelwald.

"Is there anything else you have to say for yourself, Mr. Grindelwald?" Madam Picquery asks, her weariness and exhaustion evident in her tone and body language.

The man in question only smirks in reply.

 _We've been at this all night._ Tina thinks, a scowl curling her lips, her exhaustion catching up with her.

"In that case, I believe we've gleaned all we can from the prisoner." Madam President relents, with the smallest of sighs. She looks back to the gathered Aurors, nodding her head ever so slightly.

With that signal, Tina turns, tapping two sharp knocks on the reinforced, cool metal door.

The door swings open, and two women in white coats enter. A shard of fear shoots through Tina at the sight of them, clenching her fists and forcing herself to calm as they step past her into the room, attempting to remain stoic.

It doesn't work.

Grindelwald notes her discomfort, mouth pulling into a wide, toothy grin that stretches across his pale face.

Tina's heart quickens as Madam Picquery begins to list off his crimes, the words barely registering in her overworked and exhausted mind as memories threaten to consume her.

"I, hereby, sentence you to death." Madam Picquery's ends, not even a slither of feeling can be heard in her tone as her command echoes throughout the silence.

The executioners step forward, their shoes squeaking against the floor. The Aurors, bar Tina, standing by their sides. Together, the group raises their wands, every single one trained on Grindelwald as one of the executioners reaches for his arm.

Tina's breath catches, senses going haywire as she readies herself for a duel.

The shackles on his hands and feet creak and jingle as he stands, dragging across the floor in an eerie way. Grindelwald doesn't struggle as he's pulled from the room, looking back to Tina and Madam Picquery with an amused smirk, one final time before the door closes.

The door shuts behind them, a stillness falls over the room. Madam Picquery lowers her head into her hands, a small sigh escaping her lips. Tina attempts to relax.

Try as she might to soothe her frayed nerves, she can't do a thing. Dread and apprehension fill her to the brim.

 _That was too easy._ She thinks, looking at the door, biting hard on her lips, brows furrowing in thought.

* * *

The assembled Department Heads and other high-ranking officials settle to the sides of the conference room, whispering quietly amongst themselves, curious gazes darting between the bound and shackled group of witches and wizards displayed like prized ponies in the centre of the floor.

The Minister and his Undersecretary sit alone against one of the walls, their triumphant expressions taunt their prisoners as they converse quietly, allowing the assembled group to gossip and speak as they wish, hoping to throw those bound and displayed off with their apparent disinterest.

 _I never did care much for this pomp and pageantry the Ministry favoured._ Newt thinks with a soft sigh.

Newt and Hermione stand front and centre, side by side, shoulders touching. Newt purses his lips, irritation growing by the minute as the assembled crowd continues to gossip and point, some of the more prominent, pure-blooded members openly sneering in their direction.

He looks at Hermione from the corner of his eye, taking note of her still dazed expression.

 _She's not even here._ He thinks, a deep frown settling across his handsome features before turning slightly to look to their companions.

 _What was the Ministry thinking?_ He questions, baffled by the current turn of events. A few feet away, Head Auror Shafiq and Theseus stand bound, fenced in by a handful of Aurors who look to be as uncomfortable with the current situation as they themselves do.

 _Wizards._ Newt's lips, curve slightly at the thought, the small irate voice in his mind sounding frighteningly similar to Hermione's own.

* * *

Auror Holt, a young dark haired, American Auror can't help but think how lucky he is as he creeps along the perimeter of the run down little shack. Wand at the ready, he signals to his partner, and they make their approach.

The assignments received last night were divided into two task. Group one was assigned to guard duty at the MACUSA while the other, Holt's group was sent on a search and rescue mission, their target: Percival Graves.

Though Madame President and her trusted advisers were reluctant to divide their resources, considering the dangerous criminal they currently had imprisoned in the deepest depths of the MACUSA, they had little choice. From the very beginning, learning the fate of the real Percival Graves was of the utmost importance, second only to the interrogation, imprisonment, and eventual execution of the international criminal Gellert Grindelwald.

So here they were, over half of the Auror Corps remained at the MACUSA, a handful guarding Madame President and the prisoner while the rest were stationed throughout every inch of the Ministry, watching out for any acts of terror, public unrest and keeping an eye on all possible escapes.

There was little doubt in Auror Holt's mind and many others that today would, in fact, be the day that Gellert Grindelwald would finally meet his end. The weeks leading up to this point were incredibly tense, the lack of news regarding Grindelwald's fate beginning to cause anxiety, the public growing more and more uneasy and agitated with each passing day.

For as long as Grindelwald lived, the threat would be real, unlike much of the world, the MACUSA remained on high alert. The Americans refusing to believe that the extremely, dangerous wizard, held within the depths of the Ministry didn't have a backup plan, nor that his followers, terrorising small parts of the world still, wouldn't try anything.

The longer he lived, the more dangerous it became. However, the protocol must be followed, and mysteries needed solving. Madame President refused to pass verdict until every drop of information could be wrung from Grindelwald's mind. Veritaserum hadn't worked, his mind seemingly protected, with that in mind they were forced to interrogate the man the old-fashioned way. The issue with this being the validity of his words. Nothing could be taken as straight fact. Every statement and word scrutinised to the extreme, and so days stretched into weeks and further into months. His interrogation continued.

The wizard was too loose-lipped; thus any of this words couldn't be simply taken at face value. It wasn't long before Grindelwald began talking and refused to stop, the final, seemingly relevant piece of information he supplied came five days before.

After researching, and going over a number of scenarios, a team of well-trained Aurors was dispatched. Auror Holt among them. Grindelwald's final words spurring them into action. Only days before, on a day like any other, the war criminal had finally given an answer to the question he had been asked time and time again since his capture.

 _Where in the world was the real Percival Graves?_

Many believed the Head Auror to be dead, dead and hidden away in some far off, unmarked grave, though a few — the President — held out hope. It was discovered that Grindelwald was able to maintain Grave's appearance through the extremely skilled application of Human Transfiguration. However, many believed that there was no way he could have passed himself off as the man, taking into consideration personality and behavioural quirks if he hadn't first interrogated or held Graves prisoner all this time, carefully picking through his memories. It was noted that Gellert Grindelwald was, in fact, an extremely skilled Legilimens after an incident involving a rookie Auror stationed at his door.

Although chances were slim, a handful of officials agreed. The real Percival Graves could still be alive.

The second big assignment for the Corps was this; locating and the retrieval of Percival Graves, or whatever may remain of the once great man.

Holt was doubtful whether Graves could still be alive, but anything was better than spending another minute in the presence of that madman that the MACUSA had spent every day for months interrogating.

A good day indeed.

* * *

Hermione furrows her brows, although still in a stun stupor. The world around passing by in a blur that failed to register in her mind as her memories of days long gone past carried her back. The prophecy she heard replays in her mind on a loop, in the background of her thoughts as it torments her.

 _'My dear, from the first moment you stepped foot in my class I sensed that you did not possess the mind for the noble art of Divination.' Professor Trelawney confesses, holding Hermione's limp hand within her own, turning it over again and again as if searching for something._

 _Divination._ Hermione sneers, biting down hard on her lip, shaking her head ever so slightly in an attempt to clear her thoughts. She sighs as the memory continues, the never-ending loop of the prophecy playing once more.

 _'See? Right there. You may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shrivelled as an old maid's, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.' She holds Hermione's hand, palm up as she points to a single line in her hand._

 _Gods I hate Divination, prophecies, Dark Lords, the lot of them. Damn them all._ Her mind whispers through the haze.

 _Hermione breathes deeply, eyes fluttering shut, furious. Someone tries to console her, but her rising bout of anger makes her hostile. With a sharp, irritated tug, Hermione pulls her hand away, rising to her feet. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, she storms away, not caring of the crystal ball she knocks to the ground during her hasty exit, vowing to never again put any stock in Divination, prophecies or the supposed mysteries hidden within the tea leaves._

Hermione Granger was never one to put much stock in divination, the fates or a higher being of any sort. Hermione Granger was a woman who liked facts, the true and tested, tangible results. She had little interest in Divination or prophecies. Her decision to take Divination in her third year still haunting her to this very day.

 _After all the bloodshed and war, after all, I and those I cared for had been through, was it truly too much to ask that these supposed Fate's give me a break?_ Hermione snarls, a shuddering breath falling from her lips as the fog of memories recede. The ominous prophetic hovers over her conscious, but she shoves it to the recesses of her mind, ignoring it for the time being. There are other matters at hand.

Bright brown eyes dart about the room, evaluating the situation. In Hermione's haze of shock and unadulterated unease, she was aware of the Minister's appearance before he paraded them through the halls, but just barely.

Over her shoulder, Hermione notes their companions bound and guarded behind them, Newt's warmth pressed into her side.

"A Muggleborn—" A not so quiet voice sneers from the gallery. Hermione's ear picks up on snippets of the conversations around them as the noise filters back in once more.

Her anger intensifies, irritation and growing rage with their current predicament finally making itself known. The day had just barely begun, and yet here she was, already nearing the ends of her wits.

Hermione's lips pull into a tight line as her gaze settles on the Minister, sat before her in an obnoxiously ornate chair, chest puffed out, amusement in his sneer, casually slouching as though he were some sort of beloved king. His bumbling Undersecretary sat by his side, a taunting sneer stretched across his plump little-moustached face.

 _What a joke._

"Hermione—" Newt warns, taking note of her now alert gaze, anticipating her next actions, unease beginning to build within him.

"Hector Fawley, I presume?" Hermione begins, the conference room falling silent at her words. All eyes now focused on the wild-haired witch standing in the centre of the hall. "I must say your incompetence is alarming given the current climate of the Wizarding World. Have you no shame?" Newt let the groan slip from his lips, closing his eyes as he tilts back his head, breathing deeply as the room fills with noise once more.

The level of noise, shouts, and screams of protest escalate. Newt opens his eyes just in time to see the Minister stand, Fawley's face flushes red, his Undersecretary begins to stutter and bumble once more.

 _Fantastic._ Newt thinks, a long-suffering sigh falling from his slightly parted lips.

* * *

The Halls are empty. All Ministry personnel barred from their path as they make their way to the Execution Chamber, Aurors standing at attention, wands at the ready every few feet, their back pressed against the walls, expressions set.

Grindelwald walks slightly behind one of his Auror Escorts, an executioner on either arm, completely boxed in from all sides. The Aurors hold their formation with a number of wands pointed squarely at his head.

Despite his current situation, the wizard is completely serene, a calm and almost cocky aura exuding from his person, that consistent smirk stretched across his unsettling face.

With every passing second, they grow ever closer to the chamber, the hands of the clock ticks ever closer to his death. Yet, Gellert Grindelwald looks as though he's taking a leisurely stroll, as opposed to being lead to the Death Chamber, where he will soon meet his end.

* * *

Queenie Goldstein was rarely late, a fact she prided herself on, yet here she was striding through the bustling streets of New York City, the hem of her formal dress dancing behind her, heels clicking against the cobblestone road, late for work and in a hurry.

She weaves through the crowd, every step taking her closer to her destination. A mirthful expression on her beautiful face. A small giggle falling from her painted lips as she recalls last night's events and her much-awaited date with one Jacob Kowalski.

It was impossible to forget Jacob, try as she might, reminding herself of Tina's warnings and the laws regarding No-Maj and Wizard relations, but she just couldn't let him go.

She had waited until his bakery was up and running, walking by his shop off and on for weeks until she had finally worked up the nerve to enter. His reaction was adorable, his thoughts similar to those he had during their first true meeting, hand rubbing at his neck, a hint of remembrance dancing along the edges of his thoughts.

Queenie couldn't help it. Hermione's offer was running through her mind. She struck up a conversation. Law be damned. She openly flirted with the blushing man before inviting him on a date.

Queenie was positively giddy. Her happy mood was not to last, however, as suddenly her expression drops, a frown pulling at her lips as she looks around, perceptive grey-green eyes searching the crowd while she ascends the steps of the MACUSA, intent on entering through the Muggle entrance.

Finally, her eyes land on a casually dressed man standing a few feet away from the doors, she frowns as she picks up trails of his thoughts. A spark of fear traveling along her spine, quickening her pace as she approaches the man in the cloaked uniform standing guard at the door.

Queenie's mouth opens only to erupt into a scream that dies on her lips when the ground begins to shake. The glass doors of the MACUSA and the surrounding Muggle business attached shatters, glass spraying outwards as muggle and wizards alike are thrown to the ground.

An explosion which shakes the very foundation beneath their feet.

* * *

A glint of metal catches Tina's eyes, drawing her attention to the floor beside Grindelwald's empty seat. She steps forward, ignoring Madam Picquery's questioning gaze as she kneels by the edge of the table, shaking fingers finding purchase on the small silver pendant.

 _What in the world—_ She frowns, lips pulling into a tight line as she examines the piece.

It's perfectly polished, gleaming silver under the room's lighting. It's a medium-sized pendant, of a circle, bisected by a line which sits in the centre of a triangle, hanging from a thin silver chain.

Madam Picquery begins walking towards Tiina when she stumbles under the tremor. Both women's eyes shooting to the roof as a great quake rocks the foundation beneath their feet, a loud explosion detonates from somewhere above their heads.

The two women share an alarmed look, wands sliding into their hands. With a nod, Tina stands, pocketing the pendant before stepping protectively in front of the President, pulse hammering away in her throat, a cold sweat breaking out along her hairline.

* * *

Auror Holt watches, wand raised and ready, stance tense as the Lead Auror blasts the door of the rickety old shack wide open from its corroded hinges. The Aurors wait, holding their position and breaths as the dust settle.

Another Auror casts a few detection spells, checking the entrance before giving their leader a short nod. With that confirmation, they quietly enter the shack, wands raised and at the ready. Holt looks around eyes scanning the darkened shack.

"Sir!" He shouts, gaining his superior's attention.

Remaining in position, they approach the bound and bloodied form hidden away in a darkened corner. A soft curse falls from Holt's lips as his eyes fall on the bound form, recognition flashing in his eyes.

* * *

"Answer me!" Hector Fawley, Minister of Magic bellows, his face mere inches from Hermione's own, spittle flying from his mouth and landing on her face.

Hermione curls her lips in distaste, wishing her hands were free so she could wipe the spittle now coating her face. Beside her, Newt tenses, their bound companions and the assembled crowd silent as the Minister continues his tirade.

"Hermione who?" He sneers, his words another laughable attempt to push her over the edge.

"Hermione Jean Granger." She drawls in her best imitation of the Malfoy Heir in a typical pureblood manner, her patience with the man and this damned Ministry completely obliterated.

Newt winces, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as the Minister begins to sputter at her words, Newt can only imagine what his older brother thinks of the entire scene. Knowing Theseus, despite looking entirely neutral with a perfected professional mask firmly in place, standing straight and at attention, there was surely scathing remarks and laughter playing on a loop in his mind. The slightest sliver of amusement noticeable only in his eyes and to those who know what to look for.

Newt's, of course, correct. Theseus stands bound, besides Head Auror Shafiq. The other man well aware of his subordinate's thoughts. Both men were exuding a cool and professional front, though their amusement is apparent if one does, in fact, know where to look.

The Minister looks ready to hex the young time travelling woman, wand clutched tight in hand, as his Undersecretary stalks forward, his bushy moustache quivering, once more doing a spot on impression of a purple-faced goldfish.

"The _Veritaserum_ , bring me the Veritaserum _now_!" The Minister spits, fingers tightening around the hilt of his wand as he turns away, running a frenzied hand through his greying hair.

One of his underlings rushes forward, a small vial in hand as another shoves a seat behind Hermione, knocking her on her arse.

Newt's eyes widen in fear as he looks to Hermione, dread filling him to the brim, but Hermione does nothing more than glare defiantly from her seated position, lips pressed in a firm line, an angry flush colouring her cheeks.

Anyone could tell that this wasn't going to go well.

* * *

Queenie groans, ears ringing. She lifts her head, fingers poking and prodding her hairline, groaning once more as she pulls her fingers away, looking at them with blurred sight, noticing the sticky, warm, blood now staining her fingers.

Chaos. Utter chaos all around as her eyes fight to come into focus. People lay groaning, and crying, covered in blood, glass, metal and stone lay about them. Some fled the scene, mouths opening and closing as though they're shouting or screaming, but Queenie can't hear a thing. The uniformed guard lays still before the now exposed entrance, a puddle of blood surrounding him.

The ringing in her ears slowly begins to fade, screams and cries beginning to filter through, she notes an alarm is going off in the distance.

 _Grindelwald._ The single name filters through her mind, attempting to pull herself to her feet. A wave of nausea hits her, falling forward on her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement below.

* * *

Wands at the ready, Tina and Madam Picquery make their way through the now ruined halls of the Ministry.

Tina coughs, unable to muffle the sound as the dust and debris irritate her lungs. Squinting her eyes, she notices the group of bodies lying still on the ground a few feet ahead of them.

Cautiously they approach, fear blasting through her body when her brown eyes register the gruesome scene; blood pools beneath some of the bodies while others lie completely untouched, seemingly killed by a spell as opposed to the partial cave-in or explosion.

Her breath catches, noting their uniforms and faces. She waves her wand over them. A diagnostics spell.

 _All dead._ She notes in a mechanic tone.

Tina looks about frantically, intelligent and alert brown eyes canvassing the hall.

"Grindelwald has escaped." Madame Picquery begins from behind her. Tina turns, a curious look on her face as she takes in the small blue cloudy form floating before the President. "Alert the away team. Call all uninjured and available personnel. He must be found. Inform the International Ministries and call a meeting. Quickly, we have no time to lose." With those final words the ball of blue light shoots off, they share another look.

* * *

The Undersecretary curse and groans as Hermione's foot connects with the clothed, tender flesh between his legs.

 _Should have bound her legs._ Newt snickers, pride warming him through with the slightest of smiles curving his lips, despite his fear for the woman building.

They didn't even bother taking a vote, resorting to questioning Hermione in such a way. They would have answers. The way in which they were extracted them from the witch meant little to them, as did the apparent legality of their methods it would seem.

"Stun her you fool!" The Minister shouts at the groaning, purple-faced man.

Newt furrows his brows as he takes note of Hermione mumbling quietly under her breath. Narrowing his eyes as he focuses on her softly spoken words as the Undersecretary slowly pulls himself to his feet.

"Come on, Granger." She mumbles quietly; a small metallic click registering in Newt's hearing as her lips curve up. "That's it, if you can escape from Gringotts on the back of a blind, angry dragon, you're capable of getting out of anywhere."

Newt's brows vanish into his hairline, mouth falling open in shock as a number of things happen all at once.

Her bindings drop to the floor with a quiet clank as the Undersecretary stands, wand pointed directly at her face, the first syllable of a stunning spell just beginning to leave his lips.

Wasting no time, Hermione throws herself to the side, her body colliding with Newt's, knocking the breath right out of him, sending the pair tumbling to the floor. Their bodies pressed tight, breathing in synch, Hermione straddling his waist as the stunning spell is loosed from the Undersecretary's wand.

The blue light shoots from his wand, whipping through the space where Hermione was only moments ago. The Undersecretary's eyes widen as they fall on the young, frazzled woman just entering the hall from the back of the room.

"Minister, an urgent message has—" She begins before the stunner connects, sending her flying into a wall, knocking her unconscious.

"A dragon?" Newt asks, an excited and curious glint in his eyes as he looks into Hermione's brilliant brown eyes, a small smile playing along the edge of his lips.

A sharp laugh tears from her lips as a handful of Aurors rush to the unconscious newcomer. Sending a gentle smile to Newt, she makes quick work of his binds using muggle methods before helping him to his feet, standing protectively before him much to his irritation.

"—arrived." The young woman groans as the Aurors revive her. "Grindelwald, he's escaped."

And with those final words noise fills the hall once more as the room descends into chaos.

* * *

In a seedy, dimly lit bar in the depths of Knockturn Alley, a few patrons sit alone at the small tables, Albus Dumbledore is among them.

Albus can't help but examine the young man at the bar. The young wizard cuts an attractive figure in his long, dark overcoat.

The young man turns, unusually dark eyes darting about the room as though looking for something. Albus notes the silvery mass of scars stretching across the one side of his face. Clearly, the young wizard was not ashamed of his scars, collar folded down and midnight-black hair pulled back.

Finally, the barkeep moves to attend to the young man, nodding to him in greeting, a skeptical and suspicious glint in his eyes.

When the young man whispers, Albus strains to hear the discreetly spoken words, taking note of the wizards obviously American accent. From the corner of his intelligent blue eyes, he notices that he isn't the only patron listening in.

"I'm looking for Newt, Newt Scamander." The young man says, his stance taking on a slightly defensive edge when the barkeep replies with a loud and boisterous laugh.

The Barkeeps voice easily carries throughout the room, catching the attention of all the bars occupants.

"You and everyone else." The Barkeep laughs with a condescending smile on his face. "Next you'll say you're looking for that mysterious Ms. Granger all of the papers have been speculating about."

A few of the patrons laugh darkly. The boy looks about, his fathomless, black eyes meeting Albus's own.

The young boy mumbles something under his breath, dropping a few coins onto the bar top then turns to leave. Albus's eyes follow the young man's path as he makes a hasty exit, alert blue eyes focusing on the glint of a silver pendant as it falls from the collar of his shirt.

 _The Deathly Hallows._ His eyes widen in recognition, tossing a few coins onto the table, nodding at the bartender before following the young man out.

He'd recognize that symbol anywhere, old memories of his relationship with Grindelwald fighting their way to the surface as he looks out into the quiet street, quickly spotting the young man as he turns a corner and disappears out of sight.

Dumbledore rushes along the streets stalking the young man, eager to learn of how the boy had come to be in possession of such a symbol.

* * *

An elderly man with greying hair strolls out from the MACUSA and onto the chaos filled, streets of New York City. Whistling a jaunty little tune as he passes, frighteningly out of place in the wake of the disaster that had occurred only moments before.

From her position on the ground, Queenie takes note of the man, their eyes meeting, a smile stretching along his lips as he nods in greeting before making his way to the casually dressed man who's surprisingly unharmed.

Queenie's eyes widen, a jolt of recognition filling her at the sight of the two men meeting. The casually-dressed man gripping the others arm before a crack of thunder fills the air along with the aftermath of the chaos, the pair swiftly Apparating away. No one else notices, far too occupied with the destruction at hand.

"Tina." Her sister's name is the quietest whisper, voice drowning in the noise surrounding her.

* * *

 **Author Notes** : EliexChan: I believe they are... though I still wouldn't expect them to suddenly start confessing their undying love to one another. He at least has a bit of an idea now and let's be honest i'm still trying to get a good feel for Theseus.

Shan1994: Oh she's staying don't you worry ;)

maytestark: I think Theseus at least has his suspicions now. I know there wasn't much of him this chapter but Theseus will be back! And Shafiq I think! Ack I dread the meeting between Dumbledore and Hermione... still trying to get a good handle on how I want his character to be.

ndavis77: Yeahhh pretty sure the 'quiet life' thing was a pipe dream from the very beginning... Mmmm I think they're just a bit unsure, awkward and maybe uneasy about the entire thing. They've spent the past three or so months living together and getting to know each other bit by bit... plus I imagine there were a few cute moments of possible romance sprinkled in there that I glossed over. Next chapter should see a bit of romance return perhaps. I'm thinking we'll finally get to that kiss chat which may lead into a little something... maybe. Haven't written it yet, that's my task for tomorrow :P No worries pretty sure Theseus will be a recurring character.

Niffler Nat: Ahaha unfortunately I enjoy Queenie and Jacob far too much to pull them apart. I've been playing with a few possible love interests for Theseus, some of which may surprise you. Ahhhhh so hard. I don't even know, better yet I can't even think of all the spells without pulling a list up. I mean something practical seems like a good idea but also i'd kind of want a spell that could f**k with people a bit... like the Patronus... toss one of those babies up in random places just to freak people out a bit ;P

JoWashington: ohhhh man. Probably more than 10 i'd say. Still not sure what i'll have her do with Tommy boy.

Brian1972: Ahhhh well, admittedly I didn't give that one much thought. However, you could argue that we only got a glimpse into the inner workings of the MACUSA when it comes to crimes and such I believe. It was Grindelwald (as Graves) who gave that order and Picquery wasn't even informed before Newt and Tina were taken away to be executed. That may not have been proper protocol. May have been sloppy writing on my part admittedly but i'm going with the idea that they had questions they wanted answered and protocol to be followed. Not perfect but all I currently have without backtracking and rereading sections of the screenplay.


	23. To Hell with Propriety

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction. I own nothing.

 **Author Note:** Sorry for the wait... had a bit of trouble with this chapter... hopefully it doesn't show through too much in the actual writing. There's a lot going on this chapter, a lot of characters and jumping around... really hope it all makes sense. I really had some trouble with this guy and i'm afraid this is the best I could do.

As always, thank you for taking the time to review and let me know your thoughts! Also thank you to Nyxie for continuing to edit this mess and for pointing out phrases and such that I tend to overuse... totally know I do that but they often slip past me. Thank god for Nyxie's help!

Anywho. Onto the story! Personal responses at the end as always!

* * *

Hermione can hardly resist the urge to roll her eyes as she watches the Minister and Undersecretary flail about the room, voices raised, skin stained red and purple as they bellow to the assembled members within the conference room, attempting to bring order back to the meeting.

The knowledge of Grindelwald's escape unnerved her, sending a spike of worry through her senses but she was far more concerned about their current predicament and the obviously unstable parliament of the late 1920s.

She sighs, taking a quick glimpse of Newt out of the corner of her eye; he's shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot, eyes darting between his brother and her. A sliver of guilt creeps along her spine, and her expression softens a hint.

 _All my fault._ Her subconscious whispers. Taking advantage of the distracted Minister, Hermione turns on her heal swiftly heading to the back of the conference hall.

The Aurors surrounding Theseus and Shafiq mask their surprise underneath duel ready stances, wands held firmly in their hands.

As she nears, Newt hot on her heels, Hermione stops a few feet away with raised hands, showing that she means no harm.

Theseus looks at her like she's mad; she's tempted to roll her eyes in retort.

The Aurors shift uncomfortably, eyes darting about the room looking at anyone but her. Head Auror Shafiq looks disappointed at his subordinates' lack of spine.

 _Can't say I blame him._

Eventually, one of them fathers the courage to step forward. Hermione sizes him up, noting his weary gaze and the noticeable bags under his eyes.

"Apologies, Ms. Granger," He says with the slightest of nods, eyes flickering over to Newt, "Mr. Scamander. Although we do not agree with the Minister's orders, we cannot allow you to leave the hall."

His fellow Aurors slide beside him, wands aimed at both Hermione and Newt.

 _At least they've recognized he's a threat as well._ She tsks.

"That's fair. However, I'm not leaving. I would, on the other hand, advise against shackling Newt or me again." She says with a quirk of her brow, steady gaze sliding over each one of them.

"Why is that?" A young Auror asks with a surly, sneer curving his thin lips.

 _Spoilers._ The word sits on the tip of her tongue but doesn't leave her lips. Her lips curl into a smirk as she meets the surly young Auror's gaze head-on.

"I'll just pick them again and do the same for Newt." She states, restraining a sigh as Theseus seems to be on the verge of laughing; eyes pulled tight, mouth twitching like a rabbit's nose as his shoulders shake. "More to the point, why are two of your own shackled and bound?" She asks, voice steady.

The older man, the appointed leader slides his wand back into his the holster, deciding that Newt and Hermione would keep their word. One by one, the rest of the Aurors follow their impromptu leader's example, though a handful still hold their wands steadfast in their hands.

"Orders, ma'am."

"Fawley's?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Of course." Some of the men's lips twitch at her exasperated tone. "Auror Scamander here I can understand. After spending some time with the man, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he's a troublemaker, not to mention his relation to Newt. But Shafiq, here, is your Head Auror. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he bloody and bound when we returned to the Main Atrium?"

Theseus' urge to laugh overwhelms him, choking as he attempts to speak.

"Oh, Granger—" He begins, but one dark look from Shafiq silence him.

The older Auror clears his throat, tired eyes falling to the floor as he begins his tale.

* * *

 _Idiots. They're a bunch of idiots._ Fleamont Potter sighs, leaning back into his seat, taking in the chaos around him, more than content to watch The Ministry tears itself apart.

 _No wonder Grindelwald had escaped if the MACUSA was anything like the MOM._ He relents, running a hand through his impeccably styled hair. His sigh drowning underneath all the shouting and screaming around him which is growing louder with each passing minute.

Fleamont doesn't care about The Ministry or his Wizengamot seats. He curses the day his father retired and thrust the responsibility and position as Head of the House onto him. Honestly, he'd much rather spend his days, sequestered in his laboratory, tweaking the already wildly popular and perfect formula of his Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, currently taking the world by storm.

Despite his younger brother's age, Charlus would have been a much better choice. He practically exuded confidence, possessed a skilled silver-tongue and could charm the panties off of any witch he set his brilliant hazel eyes on, much to their parent's irritation. Charlus had always showed his interest in the Wizengamot position and found the politics exciting, but he was only in his fifth year at Hogwarts. Thus Fleamont was simply biding his time, counting down the days until he could legally hand the title over to his younger brother.

 _Just a few more years._ He groans; scanning the room, his eyes fall on the wild-haired witch and her companions knee-deep in discussion with the Aurors at the back of the hall.

He quirks a brow, suddenly intrigued.

 _Now there's something interesting._ When Fleamont was called in for the impromptu meeting this morning, he had thought little of it, thinking it would be yet another long-winded discussion about the latest heroes of the Wizarding World — The Ministry's current obsession. Another two-hour meeting of the Minister and his closest confidants, moaning and whining about their inability to find them… again.

Imagine his surprise when Fleamont arrived to find, not only the Wizarding World's heroes but also Head Auror Shafiq and Auror Scamander, shackled and bound centre-stage.

 _The Minister, the biggest idiot of them all._ After parading them through the halls like prized animals with that self-satisfied, smug, cat-caught-the-canary smile on the Minister's face, there's no doubt the press had already caught wind their new heroes' predicament.

The public would not be pleased, then again, their favour was always a fickle thing. Together, with the most recent news of Grindelwald's escape, their latest heroes may very well be stripped of their titles. Ms. Granger's identity would be placed under scrutiny and without the public acting as a buffer, the press, and the Ministry would relentlessly demand the truth or whatever they may eventually deem to be truth from the mysterious woman.

With a shake of his head, Fleamont returns his attention to the hall. His dark hazel eyes falling on Abraham Longbottom, a man who's a handful of years his senior and a well-respected Wizengamot member.

 _I'm not the only one who's interested in the mysterious Ms. Granger and Co._

A sudden thrill of excitement rushes through Fleamont, lips curving into a smile.

 _Perhaps our meeting is about to get a bit more interesting._

* * *

"So, you're telling me that Head Auror Shafiq here called the Minister a pompous prick—" Hermione asks a bemused look on her face as her dark brown eyes bore into Auror Shafiq's somewhat hunched form. "At which point the Minister and his Secretary demanded he stand down and allow them to pass to eavesdrop on the prophecy. Shafiq refused so you were ordered to subdue him? Is that right?"

"Yes." The older man sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired face, clearly used to his superior's attitude but completely exhausted by the day's events.

"Why the bloody lip, though?" Newt asks from her side, drawing the attention of all those assembled.

The older man blinks, having forgotten Newt's presence. Hermione flushes, shame filling her, realizing the same.

Someone at the back of the group clears their throat, Hermione's eyes fall on a young man, noticing of his black eye, understanding hits her.

"We were able to get his wand off of him, but that did little to stop him from resorting to more… physical means."

Pride swells within Hermione's chest with a mad little giggle bubbling just behind her lips as her eyes finally meet Shafiq's own.

 _I like him._ She smiles, running a hand through her dishevelled hair.

"Well, the past is the past. The Head Auror seems calm enough. He was simply voicing the unvoiced opinions of much of the Wizarding populace. Honestly, with the most recent news, I'd say we have a much bigger problem than the Ministry's hissy fit and Auror Shafiq's actions." She turns back to the group, eying each Auror. "So, what do you say, release them and why don't we do something about these pompous wizards seeing reason."

* * *

Frustration plagues Fleamont, sinking deeper into his seat, eyes fluttering shut, attempting — in vain — to block out the pandemonium around him.

 _BANG!_

The room falls silent immediately. Thank the Fates. Startled, his eyes snap open, torso flying forward as he looks about the room.

There, smack in the middle of it all is Ms. Granger and her companions, a handful of Aurors, standing around them.

Exhilaration rages through his system, at the sight of her amused smirk. His hazel eyes flicker over to the Minister. Fleamont raises a brow at the Minister's swollen, red face and dishevelled hair.

* * *

"You little—" Fawley breaks the silence, advancing towards the misfits with his purple-faced Undersecretary following close behind.

"Enough." A firm voice booms from the side of the hall, halting the Minister in his tracks, and drawing everyone's attention. It's an older gentleman, standing up against him.

The Minister froths, an inch away from protesting. He glances around the room, makes quick work of his dishevelled appearance as regains his composure.

Hermione wants to coax the man into another fit of fury, reveal to the masses the true face of the buffoon they've elected.

"Hector James Fawley, I've known you since you were a boy. A charismatic young man, yes, but always so quick to anger. You gained a relatively high approval rating as Minister, but in recent months you've allowed your arrogance and greed for prestige and fame to cloud your senses."

The Minister indignantly sputters, cheeks flushing in anger.

The older man holds his hand up, signalling him to remain silent.

"This has gone on for far too long. Your actions today and in the previous months have brought shame upon the Ministry and everything we've worked for. What charges do you bring against the accused?"

The Minister paralyses in shock, mouth opening and closing, the action reminiscent of a codfish.

"They were resisting arrest! They're criminals!" A man shouts from the Gallery.

Hermione bites back a groan, recognizing the sneering face of the British Envoy she had met months ago, forever engraved in her mind.

"And _she—_ " He slurs with so much venom that he may as well have said 'Mudblood' instead. "—attacked a high-ranking Ministry official, _twice_ —"

"And they've been cleared of all charges Podmore. Madame Picquery of MACUSA, herself, pardoned them of all crimes during their time in New York. 'No harm, no foul' as the Muggle saying goes." The man pauses, his thin lips curving up into a small smirk scrutinizing Podmore's reactions. "More to the point, that 'high-ranking official' you repeatedly mentioned was, in fact, Grindelwald in disguise. If anything, they should be rewarded for their actions, not punished."

The silence that meets his statement is telling, some of the assembled members refuse to meet the older speakers gaze while others alternate between sneering at Hermione and Newt and the man in question.

"Why don't we do away with the pretence. You see, Mr. Scamander here is seen as nothing more than a mad fool. Ms. Granger, on the other hand, is a – Oh, what is that word you're so very fond of Podmore? Ah - Yes, Mud-"

"That's enough, you've gone too far, Longbottom!" The Minister fumes, suddenly making his presence known once more, spittle flying from his mouth.

Hermione's eyes alight with recognition; her mouth gapes in shock, brows flying into her hairline as she stares at the older man within the gallery.

 _Oh, Neville._ She can't help but think, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes; a hysterical giggle building inside her chest.

"No. it is you who've crossed the line, as did many others in this very room. What you did in the Department of Mysteries; overriding protocol and arresting, not only these two young people but two high-ranking, well-respected Aurors. All because they refused to yield. Putting them on trial when no crime had been committed, to salvage your dignity and sate your curiosity and greed. None but those named in a prophecy, those chosen to accompany them and the Keeper, himself, are permitted to hear the words. And yet Ms. Granger was forced to select a Ministry employee to accompany her, and that still was not enough. You have overstepped beyond your jurisdiction. By calling us to session, hoping to pry the prophecy from her lips through questionable means goes against the very laws we uphold."

"The – I—" The Minister stutters.

"No," Longbottom stresses, his voice reverberating throughout the chamber, silencing the Minister as he flinches. "They have committed no crimes. The words were meant for her ears, and hers alone. Ms. Granger is well within her rights to extract an _Unbreakable Vow_ from all those she was forced to share the prophecy with. Moreover, she owes you _nothing_. Mr. Scamander and her brought down the greatest war criminal of our time. His recent escape is of no consequence to their circumstances. You are wasting our time and have abused the Ministry's resources for far too long. This ends now. Your vendetta against them ends in this very room!"

"S-She has no records! She could be a spy for Grindelwald for all we know!" The British Envoy challenges, drawing the attention of the room and returning the focus back to Hermione.

"I doubt that even the most devoted spy would physically assault their esteemed leader. _Twice_ , all in the name of keeping up appearances." Longbottom scoffs. "As for her records, that's hardly unusual in this day in age. In recent years, a large number of undocumented immigrants have flooded into the U.K. Furthermore, Muggles either have chosen or were forced to give birth at home. Undocumented births, lost records, and files. This is the reality of our times. The girl can hardly be blamed for something out of her control."

Murmurs fill the hall, some members nodding in agreement.

"Now I put forward the motion that we release Ms. Granger, Mr. Scamander, Auror Scamander and Head Auror Shafiq and expunge them of all charges. I suggest we divert our focus to the more pressing matters at hand — the escape of Gellert Grindelwald. Who seconds this motion?"

"I, Fleamont Potter, second this motion." A loud masculine voice agrees from the crowd. Hermione stares with wide eyes at the man in question; a surprised squeak falling from her lips.

The men look at her, confused, whereas Newt looks on knowingly.

Hermione meets Fleamont Potter's curious gaze as more voices fill the room until finally the motion is passed.

* * *

 _Potter. Longbottom. Who's next? Weasley?_ A small hysterical giggle escapes from her lips as Newt enters the room.

He raises a brow in question, handing the steaming cup of tea to her before settling in beside her on the transfigured love seat.

The verdict passed with a majority; they were cleared of all charges. Theseus was the only one given a reprimand, a small slap on the wrist for his insubordination, then handed over to his superior for punishment. After saying their goodbyes, they left and a quick floo trip later, Hermione and Newt returned to his apartment, making quick work of recasting their wards before settling in.

"Do you know Longbottom?" She asks, turning to Newt, the cup of tea clutched tightly in her hands as she curls her legs under her body.

"Mmm," Newt hums, wincing slightly as the scalding hot tea bites his tongue. "Abraham Longbottom, I've met him before." The statement hangs in the air, Hermione's brows furrow as questions come to mind.

 _Abraham Longbottom._ The name rolls around her mind, she tries to pinpoint him in Neville's family tree, but can't. Regrettably, she had done little research into the Longbottom family after learning the fate of Neville's parents, Alice and Frank Longbottom.

"Hmmm, perhaps a great grandfather—" She muses, eyes unfocused as she relives the days long gone and past, staring steadfastly into the wall across the room.

Newt sighs, setting his cup of tea to the side, his mind is a mess as millions of thoughts and emotions wage an unseen war within him. He clears his throat, gaining Hermione's attention, pulling her away from the past. He looks on apprehensively.

"Hermione." His voice trembles as her name fall from his lips, blue falling on her tired brown. "I think it's time that we talked about New York."

She raises an eyebrow, her mind blissfully quiet as she gazes into the depths of his eyes.

"Ah - the kiss and what we've recently learned." He finishes awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck with a freckled hand, chin tilted down, looking at her through long lashes as he worries his lip.

Hermione can do little more than sigh in reply.

* * *

Theseus quirks a brow, rubbing at his wrists as he leans against the wall of the Head Auror's office. Curious blue eyes following Dominic Shafiq's every move.

The Head Auror's paceing like a caged lion along the length of his office, mumbling to himself under his breath.

Eventually, he stops, his quiet murmurs coming to an end. Dark brown meet a light blue; a soft sigh falls from his lips as he returns to his desk, groaning slightly when he drops into the plush chair, elbows landing on the table, head in hands.

Theseus pushes himself off of the wall, standing straight and at attention, hands folded behind him. He steels himself for the verbal beat-down coming his way, apprehension intensifying with each passing second.

Minutes pass, the hands of the clock ticking away, a suffocating silence filling the room as Dominic looks out of the window, running a single hand through his close-cropped hair.

Theseus clears his throat, catching his attention.

 _Now you've done it, Scamander._ Theseus thinks in derision. Shafiq turns, a hard look in his familiar brown eyes.

It had been years since they first met in Hogwarts. Dominic was in his sixth year, while Theseus was in his third, but that look was frighteningly familiar. Wisps of memory manifest in his mind, enticing him to take a trip back in time.

With a shake of his head and a deep breath, he clears his mind, meeting Dominic's gaze. Watching, waiting, dread growing stronger with each passing second.

* * *

The doorbell chimes. Jacob looks up from behind the counter, a broad grin stretching across his face as his eyes light up in recognition at the sight of Queenie.

She gives him a small quivering smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes in greeting. Jacob's face falls, moving from behind the counter and rushing forward, just in time to catch the beautiful, young witch as her knees give out.

Alarm and trepidation race through him as he holds Queenie close, soft curves and shaking shoulders pressing against his body. He reaches behind her to flip the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed' before locking the door and pulling shut all the blinds, never once letting go of the young fair-haired woman.

"Jacob—" His name, softly spoken, draws his confused, dark gaze to her red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes.

"Oh Sweetie, we need to talk." Queenie whimpers, a single shaking hand raising up to lay on his cheek.

Anxiety fills his heart, eyes widening a fraction, mouth dropping open in shock and fear.

"Oh no, no. Not like that." She says with a hint of laughter as the tears begin to fall down her face.

* * *

 _This just isn't my day._ Hermione sighs. Setting her tea aside, she angles her body towards Newt, facing him head on as apprehension and anxiety escalate within her.

"Do we have to?" She asks, rubbing a hand over her tired, drawn face. She's not exactly in the mood to have this conversation at this moment.

"Yes." His voice is firm, the single word brokering no argument. "We can't keep dancing around this topic like a bunch of teenagers that fumbled their way through their very first kiss."

Hermione snorts in reply, shoulders relaxing as she drops her hands into her lap, amused brown eyes meeting Newt's calm and steady stare.

"Very well."

* * *

"Dominic—" Theseus begins, the silence gnawing at his senses, shifting awkwardly, the tension and anxiety evident in his body language.

"Head Auror Shafiq."

"Fine." He drawls with a hint of exasperation. "Head Auror Shafiq then, do you plan on saying anything soon or should I just let myself out—"

The Head Auror turns, slamming his hands onto the shining wooden top of his well-used desk.

Theseus raises a brow at his minor outburst.

Shafiq sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a few calming breaths, hoping to settle his building rage.

"Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself?"

"No." He replies confidently, completely aware of his defiance and willing to accept any punishment deemed fair for his insubordination.

"Very well," Shafiq concedes, flipping a book open to make a note. "Effective immediately, you are assigned to desk duty for the next two weeks."

Theseus merely quirks a brow at the light sentence but accepts nonetheless, inclining his head slightly, he pivots on his heel and wraps a hand around the cold metal doorknob.

"Theseus," Shafiq begins, "Why?"

Theseus pauses, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Shafiq's eyes, lips drawn down into a small frown.

"Are you asking as Head Auror Shafiq, my boss, or as Dominic Shafiq, my old friend?"

Shafiq sighs, expression softening as he continues to hold Theseus's gaze.

"I'm asking as your friend." Theseus looks down to the ground, fingers flexing around the cool metal.

"He's my brother, and I was worried." With that he lets himself out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

* * *

Queenie and Jacob sit alone in the back room of the bakery as silence reigns over them. She tries to gather her thoughts as Jacob silently takes in the shaken woman before him. Alert brown eyes noticing the spots of blood on her collar and in her hair.

His breath hitches, anxiety, and fear continuing to build.

"Is your sister alright?" He asks in a rush, brows furrowing in thought and confusion.

 _How did I know she had a sister?_ He questions himself, thinking back to their date the night before. Not once, had they discussed their families, favouring more light-hearted topics instead.

Queenie's watery eyes widen in shock as their gazes meet, her mouth dropping open ever so slightly.

 _'The Venom only erases bad memories, Jacob.'_ The memory of Hermione's softly spoken words on that day instantly come to Queenie's mind, catching trails of Jacob's thoughts.

Despite everything that had happened today, fearing for her sister's life and the horrors heading their way, Queenie couldn't suppress the excitement that sparked within her then. Jacob's words igniting the ever-growing fire building within her heart.

Feeling emboldened, Queenie reaches out, delicately taking Jacob's hands within her own. The confused man looks to her in question. A soft smile pulls at Queenie's lips.

"Jacob Kowalski. There is only one like you." She says, grey-green eyes shining as her fingers tighten around his own. "Not all is as it seems, so very much was taken from you." The quiet words seem as though they're spoken for herself.

"Would you like to hear a story, the story of how we truly met?" She asks with a devilish smile.

In that very moment, Jacob can't think of anything he'd like better than to listen to her. Despite his confusion, he agrees, completely enthralled by the young woman sat before him.

"Once upon a time—"

* * *

 _Why is this so hard?_ Newt thinks as he runs a trembling hand through his already messy red-brown hair, tongue swiftly darting out from between his lips as he attempts to gather his thoughts.

"You think your brother was onto something?" Hermione asks, her mellow voice terminating his frenzied inner monologue.

"I – Ah – Pardon?" Newt apologises, pulse quickening, and feeling very much like a schoolboy caught kissing a girl behind the Greenhouses.

"The kiss, the prophecy, magically bound..." Hermione clarifies, an attractive blush settling across her lightly freckled cheeks.

"Ah," Despite his own discomfort and embarrassment, Newt smiles in reply.

"I – Ah - Did you notice anything when we kissed?" Hermione asks, barely above a whisper as her eyes dart to the floor. "O-Or after?" She rushes to say, voice catching slightly. Hermione sorely wishing for the floor to open up and swallow her whole, anything to save her from the awkward conversation that must now be had.

"When you have nightmares," He begins; Hermione's eyes shoot to his own, quirking her brows in question with a hard glint in her eyes. However, Newt doesn't seem the least bit concerned with her gaze, pushing forward despite the bright blush steadily spreading across his cheeks.

"Sometimes, your Silencing Charms falter. I hear you screaming out, and I can't very well leave you alone. The first - the first time I heard you, I rushed to your door only to find it heavily warded. I was blasted into the wall." Newt explains, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, looking up at her from beneath his lashes.

Hermione blushes even deeper, biting her lip in thought.

"After I recovered, I tentatively reached out with my magic, in an attempt to work out what exactly you had done to the wards, trying to find a way in, anything - I—" He stutters, a strong freckled hand reaching out to cover her own.

At his touch, Pleasure and tremors rush through Hermione; her breath catches ever so slightly as warmth builds where their bare skin meets.

"I'd do anything to silence those cries." He relents with a soft sigh, fingers flexing as they twine with her own. "I'd do anything for _you_." He elaborates.

Newt clears his throat, attempting to set himself right and muster up a little bit of Gryffindor courage to continue his tale.

"As Theseus said, there was little resistance, your magic mingling with my own, accepting it, lightly caressing—" He bites his lips, Hermione's eyes hungrily drinking in his every move. "I dismantled your wards easily and have done so since. N-Nothing untoward happened, but I - well I'd hold your hand while you slept, sitting beside you until the nightmares subsided. I'd hoped to comfort you in your time of need."

Hermione's emotions rise and crash within her like a great swell crashing against the cliff-face, heart pounding, breath catching, the heat gathering in her cheeks and hand threatening to overwhelm her as she unconsciously leans forward.

"And this." He begins, lifting their now twined hands. "Touching you is no longer as overwhelming as it was. I'm in control of my senses. My mind's entirely intact, and yet - I can't help but want _more_. This warmth within, it consumes me. Every single touch we share, the slightest of brushes warms me to my core, threatening to overwhelm my senses."

They're so close now. The gap between them is disappearing by the second. Hermione can see how his chest rises with uneven breaths, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows reflexively as though his mouth has run dry. She understands. Her own mouth feels as dry as the Sahara, tongue feeling rougher than sandpaper as it scrapes against the roof of her mouth.

"It frightens me." He admits, their faces so close that his breath dances across her lips. "Everytime we touch, I fear I'll lose myself. The world slowly falls away, an unwavering hunger making its presence known, pushing until finally the tenuous grasp on my emotions snaps and I do something that we both regret."

Their eyes meet in a swirl of blue and brown, breath falling into sync as their magic pulses faintly in the air.

Neither dare to break the silence in the room. The sounds from the city streets below filtering through their ears. With the softest of sighs, Hermione cups Newt's face in her hand, smoothing her fingers along the curve of his smooth jaw. A sliver of fear creeps along her spine; she bites her lip, losing herself in thought.

"An experiment perhaps," She mutters lowly.

Without asking for permission, he leans in and brushes his lips against hers in a ghost of a kiss.

* * *

"You have to understand. The laws are _absolute._ Here, in America, relations between Wizards and No-Maj are strictly prohibited. It's a matter of national security. You weren't allowed to remember." Queenie sobs, tears gathering in her eyes once more.

Jacob restrains himself from reaching out and wiping the tears away, but shock roots him in place. A hysterical disbelieving laugh bubbling just behind his lips, yet he doesn't laugh. _He can't._ Deep inside, hidden away in the back of his mind her words ring true. He doesn't know why or how, but Jacob Kowalski truly believes what Queenie was saying.

" _'We'll be waiting.'_ Hermione said, just before you walked into the rain. But I couldn't wait. I meant what I said that day, Jacob. I was never gonna find another man like you, and I don't want to." A myriad of emotions swell within the sweet and kind man, eyes softening ever so slightly.

A lull falls over them as they lose themselves in one another's gaze. Silencing his doubt, he accepts her words. Jacob leans forward, gently cupping the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her soft hair, he plants a small, chaste kiss on Queenie's quivering lips.

* * *

Newt breathes heavily, looking down at the woman beneath him, pressed firmly into the plush cushions of the transfigured loveseat. Her wild, rioting curls sprawl out beneath her head like a halo, small traces of golden highlights exuding an ethereal glow.

He runs his tongue lazily along the seams of his swollen lips. Hermione's intelligent brown eyes following his every move — pupils dilated and blown, leaving a thin ring of brown on the outer rim. She gives a small squeeze with her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, voicing her arousal. He bites back a moan of pleasure that threatens to spill from his lips.

 _This is hardly proper._ A quiet voice whispers; he notes the beautiful blush covering her lightly freckled cheeks, chest heaving, and rouge-bitten lips.

 _To hell with propriety._ Another voice argues. Newt can't help but agree as he runs a hand along the curve of her hip, eyes instantly drawn to the thin sliver of scarred flesh exposed just above the waistline of her trousers.

"It's not the same." The young woman beneath him admits, voice low and filled with gravel.

Newt's heart skips a bit, pulse quickening, a cold sweat breaking out across his hairline as panic and fear grip his heart. He moves to free himself from the vice-like grip her toned thighs and legs have on his narrow waist. She simply tightens her grip in response.

"Newt." He stills, curious and somewhat wounded gaze meeting her own. "That's not what I meant. Not entirely."

Confusion falls into the vat of panic bubbling inside of him. He quirks a brow.

Hermione sighs, she runs a hand through her hair, careful of the tangles made during their haze of desire.

"It isn't the same because ever since New York, from our very first meeting. Every touch, even something as simple and innocent as your fingers brushing against mine would cause any rational thought and modicum of control to cease and were obliterated. I couldn't think—" She untangles her hand from her hair, laying it once more on his jaw, lightly caressing the smooth skin there. "I couldn't breathe. All I could see, feel and hear was _you_. Do I really seem like the sort of girl who would go around kissing a boy in the middle of chaos as the entire world went to hell around me?" She asks her voice laced with amusement and a twinkle in her eyes.

Newt opens his mouth to reply but stops as the words dies on his lips. Tilting his head to the right, he relishes in feeling her calloused, ink-stained fingers caresses his skin.

He's at a loss for words, unable to argue. She's entirely right, Newt agrees. Neither of them seemed the type prone to such frivolous behaviours, especially in the middle of an international and highly dangerous incident.

"I don't believe either of us are." He agrees with a slight smile, eyes boring into her own.

"Exactly. It was odd and unusual, every touch, our kiss... it all seemed somewhat forced. Though looking back on it now, I can't argue that there was a genuine attraction growing there, even then, for me at least..." She trails off a somewhat timid look entering her eyes.

He confirms with a nod. Erasing the space between them, he slides his hand into her messy, tangled hair, calloused fingers flexing slightly as they lightly massage her scalp.

A soft, contented sigh escapes Hermione's lips at his touch, thighs tightening just a fraction.

"I'm glad." A brilliant smile stretches across her lips. "It might not be the same, but it's no less amazing. If anything, I prefer how I feel now, to what I did then. Now. I'm in control, I'm rational even with you pressed against me as you are. Moreover, I'm sure of these feelings building within me. They're real. No strange magics at play forcing my hand. At least, not overwhelmingly so. Kissing you, touching you, wishing to spend my days with you, those are all _my_ choice and not the result of some strange ancient magic, adrenaline or the aftereffects of my tumble through time." She pauses, brows furrowing in thought, hand dropping once more to her side.

"I don't believe in prophecies, divination or love at first sight. I don't put much stock into the concept of soulbonds or soulmates, even with all that has happened I don't fancy myself madly in love with you. But—" Another pause, feeling uneasy as she looks to Newt.

He smiles slightly in reply, a comforting, easy look, urging her to continue.

"But, I do know that I'm attracted to you, and I want to learn everything about you, as much as you're willing to share. I offer you the same. I'd like to see where this goes — not focusing on soulbonds, mates and our apparent fate — but rather on what's real and tangible. This. You and me. Right here and now, we'll deal with the issues we may face as they come. Together. One day at a time."

"One day at a time." He accepts, with the slightest of laughs before leaning forward once more to catch her lips in another heated kiss, relishing in the feel of her body pressed deliciously close against his own.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Archrsphoenix: Thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying and stuck with it well I fumbled my way through the retelling of the film/ screenplay and finally started off on my own without a guide of sorts. I am loving this pairing! Really wish there were more stories with this pairing... most pairings I really enjoy have few stories *sighhhh*

Alice-Ann Wonderland: Queenie is lovely! Can't leave that girl alone! Ahhh sadly by this point in the story V-Day has already passed I believe... plus there would have been little romance on that day in the fic I imagine considering the weirdness between the couples... perhaps the next time V-Day rolls around in the fics timeline ;)

EliexChan: Totally just running with the idea that the Ministry and many of its officials are incompetent as per usual. Bunch of snotty purebloods running the game. Not to mention I imagine it would be pretty male dominated in this time period... bunch of pale, pure bloods... Hermione has no time for that s**t and neither do I! Hopefully you enjoy the Hermione/Newt scenes this chapter... hope it didn't come off as rushed. They've at least confirmed they have feelings for one another... not love but growing feelings and plenty of attraction. Hopefully since the awkwardness of their unspoken kiss is now out of the way we'll get a few more hot scenes in the following chapters!

sthrnpanther06: Is the Minister and the Ministry are a bunch of idiots a good enough answer? Ahhhh in all seriousness though... that was my fault, I just glossed over it because I didn't think it was all that important but I did address it somewhat in this chapter. Hopefully I didn't dissapoint! Thank you for pointing that out though! Try as I might some things do slip past my notice. Thank you for the continued interest :)

MiladyTairiell: Ohhh yes! Newt/ Hermione and Credence will certainly cross paths again I imagine... still not entirely sure where Credence's story is going but i'm thinking he may be revisited in the next chapter or the one following. Ahhhh yeah I update alot...

Monarchslayer: Ahahah I feel honoured! Hope I don't dissapoint!


	24. Percival Graves and a Mysterious Letter

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. This one took a while I know and it's on the shorter side as well... Life got a bit busy, as it sometimes does and I had one hell of a time trying to write this chapter after writing nothing for a few days straight. I hope you guys are still enjoying this fic and will continue to let me know your thoughts!

Thank you to Nyxie who continues to be a wonderful Beta and didn't try to murder me when I suddenly changed my mind and rewrote this chapter after sending off one copy for editing. Nyxie really is the best!

Anywho thank you everyone for your continued interest! Do let me know if this story ever becomes a complete, unreadable mess! Anywho don't hate me for some of what's about to happen. Personal responses at the bottom as always!

* * *

 _Gone. Gellert Grindelwald, the greatest war criminal of their time was gone._

Madame Picquery continues staring at the glowing, metallic map of New York City, held within the Major Investigation Department of the MACUSA. She's struggling to maintain her composure as a number of emotions surge within her tired, weary form.

A handful of Aurors mill around, cautiously glancing at her from the corners of their eyes.

Though she would never speak of such perceived weakness aloud, Seraphina Picquery can't help but think that they were judging her, blaming her for all the chaos and destruction mere hours ago.

Over forty Aurors, various employees and a few unlucky No-Maj were seriously injured or killed during Grindelwald's escape. The MACUSA was now on lock down. A state of emergency was declared. However, those were not the only casualties of the day.

Percival Graves, a well-respected Auror, Director of Magical Security and Head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dead. The search-and-rescue mission carried out during Grindelwald's escape was a success; they located and found him. However, it was a little shock to learn of his demise.

It was suspicious that Grindelwald was so forthcoming with his information. He didn't lie when he gave them the location of the true Percival Graves. He simply failed to mention what state they'd find him in.

According to the healer, Graves has been dead for months. They believed he was killed shortly after being kidnapped after Grindelwald assumed his identity. Sometime in December, they estimated in regards to his D.O.D, although the damage done to his body was far too great to confirm the time and cause of death.

Seraphina Picquery cares very little for such things, given the current state of the MACUSA, she has no doubt in her mind that her approval rating is plummeting with each passing moment. It's likely that this is her final term as President, but she's determined to _not_ go down in history as the President who allowed Grindelwald to escape and continue his reign of terror.

 _What's done is done._ Taking a breath, she shakes away that inconsequential train of thought, dark eyes focusing once more on the metallic image before switching it off.

 _Nothing._ Not one sign of Grindelwald or his mysterious accomplices. He could be halfway across the world by now, and it is all her fault!

The International Confederation of Wizards was summoned, a number of high-ranking officials from all over the world will join them shortly. They were preparing the Pentagram Office for their imminent arrival.

With a heavy sigh, Madame Picquery pivots on her heel and exits the room, making her way through the newly repaired halls to the interrogation rooms, in the depths of the MACUSA. She was eager for answers, desperate for any piece of information they could learn about Gellert Grindelwald and his 'Grand plans' for the Wizarding world.

* * *

"He's escaped." The old hag's quiet words catch Credence Barebone's attention. His unsettling dark eyes falling upon the hag and her chosen companion as he melts further into the shadows of the alley, careful to remain silent and out of sight, ears straining to listen in on their hushed conversation. "Grindelwald, he's escaped."

With three simple words, the old hag has chilled him to the core.

Panic builds, heart rate increasing as he struggles to breathe, that terrifying and all-consuming power threatens to consume him.

In the back of his mind, he knew that the peace he had savoured these past few months would eventually come to an end. Leaving New York was his best decision yet, the unknown power within him stayed blessedly quiet over these past few months. That being said, the sudden news of Grindelwald's escape threatened to push him over the edge, his tenuous grasp on his emotions swiftly slipping away.

The hag and her companion continues to speak, yet Credence can't hear a thing. Their voices are muffled by the sudden rush of blood to his head. A quiet, pained moan falls from his parted lips giving away his position.

His dark eyes focus on the pair who have now noticed him, opening his mouth to warn them, the words dying on his lips, a deep groan filling the air.

Unbeknownst to Credence he was being followed. Albus Dumbledore stands Disillusioned a few feet away, silently watching the scene play out before him in the darkened alley.

Dread fills the older wizard; the young wizard is shaking and gasping for air. The old hag and her companion moving ever closer with each passing second, their intentions obvious.

 _Time is running out._ Albus had only wished to follow the young man, learn of his intentions and where he had been staying, but he now had to do something. Rushing forward, he grabs the young man's upper arm in a vice like grip, pulling him closer before Disapparating away.

Within the now silent alley, the hag curses, her companion quickly making his escape.

* * *

Some days Tina Goldstein truly hated her job. Just a few days ago, she was reinstated as an Auror, Grindelwald was captured and awaiting death. But, of course, things rarely went according to plan. Just when she thought that things were finally getting back to normal, it all went to hell.

Grindelwald escaped, leaving behind a scene of destruction and death in his wake. MACUSA's on lock down, and she hasn't been able to contact her sister all day. She was told that Queenie was late for work and wasn't among the dead or injured which comforted her slightly but Tina could barely clamp down the fear and dread gradually building within her.

 _Queenie._ She silently prays.

As much as Tina wants to find her sister she can't. They're in a state of emergency; the only employees free to come-and-go being the highest-ranking officials and a handful of Auror's dispatched to locate Grindelwald or pick up whatever trail they might find. Everyone was questioned. No one can be trusted. Gellert Grindelwald had escaped, and there is no doubt in anyone's mind that he had help.

Tina's lucky. Being with the President herself at the time of the explosion, it gave her an alibi, clearing her of most suspicion. Still, she submitted to voluntary questioning, even going as far as to allow the President and her chosen counsel to question her under the influence of Veritaserum. After what happened the last time, Tina has very little desire to be on the wrong side of the interrogation table, ever again.

 _What a day._ Tina sighs, taking in the scene before her.

They were in the interrogation room; the same one Newt, Hermione and she were questioned in only months before, fortunately, it's not Tina in the hot seat this time around.

Grindelwald's escape wasn't the only shocking news of the day. The squad of Aurors sent out to retrieve Percival Graves had returned— after speaking to Grindelwald himself, Tina has little reason to believe that he was still alive. She was correct in her beliefs.

Graves's was dead. Any further information regarding Grindelwald and his grand plans died with him. Now, they could do little more than deal with the current state of the MACUSA — questioning every single employee, hoping to gain even the smallest piece of information.

They no longer had the luxury of wasting time. With each passing minute, Grindelwald and his fanatics were getting further away. They needed answers, and they needed them now.

* * *

Albus didn't think. The young man's sudden spike in magical energy forced him to act. He grabbed him with little thought, Apparating them both away to the first place that came to mind: The Forbidden Forest.

It shouldn't have been possible. The Forbidden Forest is on Hogwarts' grounds. Apparating here should have been impossible, yet here they are.

 _A puzzle for another time perhaps._ He narrows his eyes in thought, taking in the young man's shaking form.

"Breathe" Albus urges, gripping the young man's forearms, trying to hold him still. Their eyes meet, the unusually dark eyes of the young man full to the brim with panic and fear.

"R-Run." He groans and shudders. Albus's curious blue eyes widening in shock as he notes his face turning black.

The young man grits his teeth, clenches his fists white and stiff, struggling to suppress the destructive force seemingly building within him now.

Fear shoots down Albus's spine, an old memory drudges up to the surface, his heart beating wild and unsteady against his chest.

 _A small house in Godric's Hollow starts shaking and shuddering; a terrified, feminine scream penetrates the air._

 _It has been a little over a month since their mother moved them from Mold-on-the-wold to Godric's Hollow, a little over a month since his father's imprisonment and the muggle-attack on his younger sister's life._

 _What happened to Ariana was a tragedy. Their mother moved them to hide Ariana from the outside world. However, Albus wasn't sure how successful her attempts would be if the ear shattering screams and shakes and quakes continued for much longer._

 _A young Albus kicks the blankets off from his feet, glancing over to his younger brother before grabbing his wand._

 _He and Mother bought his wand only weeks ago, in preparation for the coming school year. In a few short weeks, Albus Dumbledore would begin his schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although he didn't yet know a single spell and he wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts, he refused to be unprepared. Damn the laws._

 _He quietly creeps through the darkened hallways of the house, careful to silence his footfalls as he approached his younger sisters room._

 _The door is ajar. The screams growing louder the closer he gets; the dim flickering of candlelight bathes the room in an eerie glow._

 _Holding his breath, young Albus approaches, wand out and at the ready. Curious blue eyes peeking through the gap. In the room, laying on the bed is his younger sister, Ariana. Her tangled, blonde hair spread out like a halo beneath her head as she writhes on her bed, the sheets and blanket entangled around her small form, tiny hands clutching tight; swatches of black mist seeming to lick at the skin of her delicate face._

 _His mother is sobbing, pressing herself tightly up against the wall, her teary eyes wide and full of fear, an empty potions vial clutched tightly in hand._

 _Another scream penetrates the air, the house trembles for a few moments until it finally ceases. Ariana's screams descend into a whimper then silence. The house stops shaking once his sister drifts off into a potion-induced sleep._

 _Albus clenches his fist, biting hard on his lip, His mother slumps down the wall, flinging the small, empty vial across the room where it shatters in a small spray of glass. Violent sobs wrack her body as Albus stumbles back, wide-eyed and fearful, an all-consuming dread threatens to spill over the brim._

Albus shakes his head, shooing away his thoughts, returning his attention back to the young man.

"Breathe." He repeats, rubbing a hand over his arm, voice low and soothing, fearing to spook him further.

Breathe." He commands, gripping the boy's chin in hand, forcing their eyes to meet.

The boy starts regulating his breaths, choking and sputtering as he exhales. The blackness begins to recede, yet still, he shakes, clearly struggling to stay in control.

"Breathe — I'm Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are currently in the Forbidden Forest on the grounds. There is no one else around. You are safe, this I swear to you, young man."

"Not-not safe. Run."

"No, you a very much safe, as am I. I overheard you- In the bar." The young man gasps, eyes widening as another wave of panic grips him. "No, no, you have nothing to fear from me." Albus soothes, noting the sudden tension in the young man's form. "I heard you were looking for Mr. Scamander and Ms. Granger. Although, I have yet to meet this Hermione Granger who has gained the interest of the Wizarding World, Newt Scamander, on the other hand, was a beloved student of mine. You were looking for them—" The young man begins to relax at the mention their names. "Though I may not know their current whereabouts. I can help you find them, I can help you. Knockturn Alley is no place for a young man such as yourself. It's full of the most unsavoury and dangerous types."

"However," Albus begins slowly, contemplating his next words. "I must know your reasons for seeking them out and how—" His eyes drop to the pendant resting over the young man's chest. "How you came to be in possession of this pendant here."

The two share a look. They weren't out of the woods yet, but Albus's words calmed the young man ever so slightly.

* * *

 _Nothing._ It took all day and night to question each and every employee, present at the MACUSA, during the time of Grindelwald's escape. Plus, they had to wait for those on the search-and-rescue mission to return.

Grindelwald clearly had help. Thankfully, they found no traitor within their midst. All employees were accounted for, but this information provides little comfort to President Picquery. The International Delegates were beginning to arrive, and she had nothing to give them. No more than what she already knows.

At the cost of causalities and fatalities, Gellert Grindelwald was free, and the Wizarding World would soon be thrust into another period of unrest.

There's no longer a doubt in her mind. This _is_ her final term.

* * *

"Teenie?" Queenie quietly asks, opening the door into their darkened apartment. She stands in the small entrance way, looking around. Tension evident in her squared shoulders and the way she's tightly clutching her wand in hand.

No reply. Tina isn't home yet. With a sigh and a wave of her wand, the small apartment slowly bathes in light. She bites her lip, locking the door behind her before making her way through the room, making quick work of removing her shoes, stained jacket, and purse.

Heading towards the kitchen, her grey-green eyes notice the small piece of parchment on the wooden table. Hands shaking, she grabs it.

 _I'll be home as soon as I can._

 _Tina_

The tension melts away as she slumps into one of the sturdy wooden chairs, dropping her head into her hands. Somewhat comforted by the knowledge that her sister is safe, Queenie leans back, wiping away the unshed tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Wordlessly, she summons a piece of parchment and a quill. Biting her lip, wondering, she stares off into the distance. Then, begins writing:

 _Dear, Hermione-_

Words pour out from her like a raging wave, the only sound within the small apartment is the scratching of a quill against dry parchment.

* * *

A girlish giggle fills the dimly lit room as Hermione and Newt separate. The two spent the majority of the past two days alternating between making out on the transfigured loveseat, like a pair of lusty teens, and just basking in the warmth of each other's presence.

An advance copy of Newt's manuscript arrived yesterday, the two taking turns reading the passages aloud. Locked away in the safety and comfort of their home, they were blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning in the Wizarding World.

Brown meets blue, sharing a soft look with joyful smiles stretching across their swollen lips. They relish in the sensation of their bodies moulding together and the warmth covering their skin. Newt runs a single, steady hand through Hermione's messy, riotous curls, an indulgent smile stretched wide across his face.

A sudden tap on the window drags their attention away from their ministrations. With great difficulty and reluctance, Newt detangles himself from Hermione's vice-like grip.

Hermione can't help but protest with a groan at the loss of contact. That indulgent smile reappears when Newt bends over, laying one final, playful chaste kiss on her heated temple. He walks across the darkened room and opens the window to allow a beautiful dark, Screech owl in.

The owl flies past Newt, landing on the edge of the table and drops a large parchment wrapped package on the wooden tabletop, knocking a delicate little teacup onto its side. Hermione laughs as the icy liquid held within spills onto the floor. Wordlessly summoning her wand, she vanishes the mess away.

With a small nod of thanks, Newt lightly strokes the docile owl as his eyes fall on the letter held tight within its beak.

"I wonder who this from." He muses, brows furrowing in thought.

Hermione quirks a brow in apprehension as she examines the small envelope. Sitting upright on the loveseat, she casts a spell, checking for any harmful hexes or curses. Clean of malicious intent, she stretches out a single hand towards the bird in question.

The small, proud owl stares at her in defiance, it's dark gaze unwavering. Unnerved, she lightly grips one of the edges, gently pulling the letter from its beak.

Turning the letter over, she examines the looping scrawl before breaking the unfamiliar seal. The owl hoots and preens its feathers, waiting for a response to the missive as Newt watches Hermione read the letter in silence, he notices the rising tension in her shoulders and the deep frown marring her features.

She, wordlessly, passes the letter over to him. The smallest brush of their fingers leaving a tantalizing, faint trail of heat in it's wake. He looks at her inquisitively, brow quirked once he spots the family name at the top of the missive.

Hermione sighs, slumping in her seat, thoughts a mess as old memories resurface. Newt can't do nothing more than watch as she loses herself in the past.

* * *

 **Author Notes** : EliexChan: Ahahah I had that song in my head while writing that bit as well ;P I imagine we'll see a bit more of the Potters and Longbottoms at some point! May not be right away but I can't see Hermione avoiding them forever. Ahahah i'm very, very glad you liked it!

Alice-Ann Wonderland: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Really hope I don't disappoint and do justice to each of their stories!

sthrnpanther06: Oh god no, not harsh at all! Don't you worry! I'll keep that in mind for the edit at the end or if I have the sudden urge i'll write up an outtake like you suggested! I really should address that at some point, you're right.

UrsaMaritimus: Wooooo! A fellow Polar Bear! Love it! Thank you for the kind words and interest in this fic! :)


	25. Home

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Here's chapter 25 for you all! Thank you to Nyxie for editing this mess as always and thank you to you all for your continued interest and kind words!

Let's just get straight to it! Personal responses at the end!

* * *

 _Oh, Harry._ Melancholy fills Hermione's eyes as she examines the large manor, partially hidden by a canopy of trees behind the large, tightly shut iron wrought gates, which proudly display the Potter Family Crest.

Waves of emotions surge through her, hints occasionally flit across her face, alerting Newt to the inner turmoil she's experiencing. Dozens of questions run through her mind, countless 'what if's' and the desire to see her best friend, one last time — even if just to sate the curiosity plaguing her mind.

An audible sigh slips from her red-stained lips, pulling the light overcoat closer and tighter, shivering slightly in the gentle spring breeze.

"Is it your memories?" Newt asks; his warm breath caressing the edge of her ear in the most delicious of ways as he leans into her.

"No." Hermione straightens her back and squares her shoulders. A hard look entering her eyes, staring at the manor that's looming ahead. "I've never been here before." She confesses gravely.

Newt looks at her, startled and surprised.

"What?" he squeaks, "How? He was your best friend. The last of his line. Unless the manor was destroyed before his birth, this should have all been his." A pregnant pause fills the air between them, the wind howling as it rustles the leaves in the canopy of the ancient trees.

"I-I don't know," Hermione admits, brows furrowed in thought; irritation spiking down along her spine. "You're right. Of course, you're right-but- I honestly have no idea what happened to the manor in my time." The words tumble unbidden from her lips.

"He was a Potter, a well-known and respected Pureblood family that dates back to 13th century. They have dozens of estates and a moderately vast vault that's overflowing with gold. It seems highly unlikely that they managed to squander all of their riches and sold all of their estates, especially given Fleamont's recent success with his Sleakeazy hair potions." Newt gestures wildly in frustration.

Hermione knows he isn't genuinely frustrated with her, but rather the situation and the lack of information. That being said, she's also beginning to feel the frustration and anger.

"You seem quite well versed in Pureblood history." She bitterly snarks.

Ever since receiving the Potter's missive yesterday, she's been tensed in apprehension and anxiety that's steadily growing with each passing moment. However, Newt's poking and prodding were the final straw, pushing her over the edge.

"More to the point, the Potter family wasn't pure enough considering their exclusion from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The only wealth, either Harry or I were aware of was the stacks of gold stored within Vault 687."

Newt quirks his brow in response, ignoring her bitter tone because he understands that it is not directed at him.

"I am a Pureblood." He states with a frown on his lips. "Despite rejecting many traditional and prejudicial aspects of the ruling class, my brother and I were taught the history of our world and customs from birth."

Hermione flinches at his response, a sliver of guilt creeping along the edges of her thoughts.

"Well," Newt forces himself to sound cheery. "No matter, you're experiencing the history of your friend, first hand. The truth will be revealed soon enough. Did he manage to receive _any_ of his family's heirlooms? A few of them are quite well known."

Hermione mumbles something under her breath, grinding the toe of her polished, black, closed toe shoes into the gravel below, eyes firmly on the ground.

"Pardon?" He asks with a playful lilt in his voice, bending down towards her. His chilled fingers lightly brush against her own, leaving a small trail of warmth following in its wake.

Hermione looks up, Newt's eyes widen in shock as their gaze connects. His expression softens, noticing the pensive look on her face, and the adorable frown between her whiskey-coloured eyes.

"The Invisibility Cloak — There's so much I still need to tell you Ne—"

"I'm quite interested in learning how you know so much about my family and our most treasured and secret heirloom. A discussion best conducted over a hot meal, won't you say, Ms. Granger?" A masculine voice interrupts their conversation.

Hermione curses under her breath and turns to face the eavesdropper head on.

* * *

Twinkling blue eyes examine the Muggle newspaper strewn open on the desk, inspecting the articles in depth. Despite his grievances with Muggles, he can't deny their ingenuousness, imagination, and capability to dream up the most innovative yet terrifying inventions.

With each passing year, working as the Transfiguration Teacher at Hogwarts, he was growing more and more interested in new Muggle devices and the inner workings of their world. Although he had reservations interacting with the Muggle populace, he was always amazed by the Muggleborns admitted into the ancient halls of the castle each year in larger numbers.

More to the point, his encounter with young Credence Barebone — a Muggle-raised boy, without a speck of magical education or knowledge. Possessing a surplus of raw and uncontrollable magical energy, he can't deny that Muggleborns and Muggle-raised were among the most powerful and skilled students that he has ever had the pleasure of teaching.

What Credence's mind revealed to him about Ms. Granger further proved his hypothesis.

Albus leans back in his chair, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as he watches the bobbles twist and turn on the corner of his desk.

It's been two long days. After reassuring and learning his name, Albus brought Credence into the castle, thankfully managing to avoid running into any of his fellow professors and students. Once safely sequestered away in the Transfiguration office, Albus sent off a quick note to Headmaster Dippet, informing him of the guest who would be staying with him for the time being.

So far, no reply from Dippet, which doesn't surprise Albus in the least.

Credence hadn't been very forthcoming about New York. He was meant to be dead for Merlin's sake. More to the point, Credence seemed aware of the value attached to the knowledge he now possessed, perhaps also of the danger, it held now that Gellert had escaped.

After administering a moderate dose of Calming Draught into his steaming cup of tea, Credence finally relaxed. He no longer jumped at the slightest noise and the frantic darts of his eyes to the door eventually ceased. Still, with so little information about the incident, he forced Dumbledore to use Legilimency on him, easily shuffling through the memories before finding the ones he needed.

Credence's mind's mess, a dark and tragic childhood marring his outlook on life. He's terrified and frightened of the future. His fear appears in the forms of his adopted mother — Mary Lou — Percival Graves, the Aurors who neutralized him and the all-consuming power churning inside of him.

 _He's meant to be dead._ Despite the danger, he poses Hogwarts, Albus can't help but thank the Magick that Credence survived the attack in New York. He truly believes it would be a waste of potential for the young Credence's story to end there. That amount of raw power and untamed magic rolling off of him in waves is _magnificent_.

 _Intoxicating, if not a bit terrifying._ With proper training and foci for his magic, he might be one of the most powerful and formidable wizards of the decade.

However, it's clear that Credence and his magic are unstable. The knowledge of Grindelwald's escape triggered his fears and Albus was almost too late to pull him back. If he hadn't acted, if he hadn't Disapparated them away when he did. Well, best not to dwell on what might have been.

Credence's memories brought a fresh, new narrative of the events in New York. So many unknown variables, much of the incident cloaked in secrecy, but with Credence's help, Albus could see the full scope of the events and what they could mean for the future of the Wizarding World.

Hermione Granger, Muggleborn and proud, if his sources were to be believed. An accomplished duellist, exuding power and confidence. Someone who is, more or less, on equal footing with Gellert Grindelwald. That, in itself, is no easy feat. His old friend being one of the most powerful and formidable opponents he has ever met. His magical prowess matched only by his radical beliefs.

What truly stood out to Albus about their duel in the subway was her appearance and words.

Albus cares very little for appearances, especially those of the female variety; however, he cannot deny Ms. Granger's beauty. The way she stood before Credence, those intelligent and wise whiskey-coloured eyes and the way her magic rolled off of her in tidal waves. She was magnificent.

A soft snore snaps Albus from his thoughts; Credence is fast asleep peacefully in another room. With a thoughtful gaze, Albus rises from his seat, quietly making his way across the room in search of a quill and parchment.

The memories he had seen within Credence's mind left him with more questions than answers. Albus had always been the curious sort since his youth.

Though he has no desire to get involved with whatever chaos Gellert plans to release on the world; he feels that he can no longer ignore the mystery of his ex-student and his companion. Never before had he felt such an intense and compulsive hunger for knowledge and it feels as though this Hermione Granger will have all the answers he needs.

* * *

 _Just had to open your mouth, didn't you Granger?_ Hermione shoots them a harsh glare as she examines the man before her. Newt's been awkwardly attempting to soothe the man as she engaged in a silent battle of wills. Neither party seeming willing or able to relent.

 _There's no talking our way out of this one, given how much he's already overheard._

He and Newt appear to know each other quite well — an old family friend, so it seems. Surprisingly, Newt had failed to mention this to her before they agreed to a small formal dinner with the Potters.

 _Or perhaps he did?_ A small part of her mind rationalizes.

After reading the letter, Hermione was neck-deep in her memories of Harry, remembering their friendship fondly. Newt might have mentioned it then, but she was too far gone to notice. Be that as it may, it makes no difference now.

Henry Potter is a formidable man, emitting an imposing air with his formal wear, a charming mix of muggle and wizard fashion. The moonlight highlights the hazel in his eyes; they meet Hermione's gaze, piercing and sharp.

"Honestly Henry, it's not what you think." Newt implores, frantically attempting to diffuse the situation.

"Newt, I'll hear you out because of my friendship with your parents, bless their souls. But, I'll be confiscating both of your wands. _Now._ " It isn't a request. It's a _command_. Either they willingly hand over their wands or refuse and begin duelling, then the Potters and the Scamanders will be allies no more.

Hermione furrows her brows. _Perfect form._ Henry holds his wand with a firm but steady grip, pointing it directly at Hermione, identifying her as a threat, rather than the son of his old friend.

 _He's not wrong._ A wistful smile tugs at the corners of her lips as Hermione takes in his messy, black hair and the curve of his jaw, a family feature it would seem that reminds her of Harry so very much.

The wind howls, Hermione contemplates her next move, shuffling slightly from foot to foot. She exhales a reluctant sigh.

"Fine," she says sharply. Tension seeps out from Henry and Newt's shoulders as she steps forward with Newt hot on her heels. Silently she summons her wand to her hand, offering it to Henry, hilt first as Newt does the same.

Henry stows the wands in the folds of his cloak, eyes never once leaving Hermione's tense form.

A frustrated sigh escapes Hermione's lips as the silent staring contest resumes.

"Shall we go?" She asks in exasperation; sidestepping pass their host in an attempt to get this tense situation over and done with. She bites her lip when a strong hand grips her upper arm. Fire blazes in her eyes as she meets Henry's knowing gaze.

"All of them." Newt groans from beside Henry, he sends Hermione a beseeching look.

"Fine," she bites, verging on a growl. She wandlessly dismantles the wards on her bag and thrusts her arm into its depths, rummaging until she feels the smooth surfaces of wood.

She shoves the two, carved pieces of wood into Henry's fabric clad chest with a sneer curving her lips.

 _To hell with propriety._ Impulsively, she lets the thin pieces of wood tumble to the ground.

Henry bends over to retrieve them. Hermione can't help but calculate the numerous ways she can quickly incapacitate him in this position, but with a sharp look from Newt, she wills herself not to lash out as he collects the wands from the ground.

They look to Henry as a quiet gasp escapes his lips. Hermione opens her mouth to voice her questions aloud when she's pushed forward. A wand pointed directly between her eyes.

All she can see is red, the sound of rushing water filling her ears as her anger finally reaches its precipice, all anxiety, and apprehension about their meeting, quickly being replaced by a devastating bout of violence.

"And just what are you doing with a dead man's wand?"

* * *

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

 _Damn Bird._ Theseus groans, rolling onto his side. He lets out a startled shout from his lips as he falls off the couch and onto the hard-wooden floor of the living room.

" _Merlin's hairy balls_ , I wouldn't have drunk so much, if I'd known a demon bird would be tapping at my window in the middle of the bloody night." His words echo out into the spacious room.

With much reluctance, he pulls himself up, wobbling a little on his feet before stumbling to the window and opening it for the blasted bird.

A large Screech owl swoops about the room, what many would consider a beautiful display, but at the moment, all Theseus can see is a beast that's being a nuisance.

He puts his head in his hands, rubbing his calloused fingers over his stubble before signalling for the owl. It lands in front of him, preening but Theseus simply tears the letter from its beak.

The screech owl gives a loud, irritated hoot, taking to the sky once more but not before clipping Theseus sharply with its wing. It glides out through the window and into the dark sky to begin its long journey home.

With a loud curse, Theseus slams the window shut, locking it tightly before breaking the wax-sealed missive. Squinting his eyes, he attempts to read the words under dim lights.

He spews out another string of curses as he storms into the kitchens, rummaging through the cupboards for a Sober-Up potion. Finding it, he tears the cork from the vial with his teeth and chugs it down in one-shot.

Feeling the potion taking effect, he smooths out the creases in his clothes, quickly putting on his overcoat before racing over to the fireplace, tucked cosily against one of the walls.

"Potter Manor." He states, tossing the Floo powder and disappearing in a burst of sickly green flames.

* * *

Newt Scamander refuses to believe that meeting Hermione was a mistake; however, he is mildly concerned with how often they find themselves bound and shackled by a group of suspicious witches and wizards.

He cares for her, he does. She's beautiful, passionate and fiercely intelligent. She's also interested in all Magical Creatures and has never once judged him for his more eclectic and eccentric interests and tastes. He can no longer imagine a life without her.

In all honesty, at this rate, he fears that they'll be thrown into Azkaban before the year's up, given his disposition for somewhat destructive and reckless adventures and her lack of filter, a penchant for running her mouth.

He likes that about her, but it does get them into a fair bit of trouble. Despite their situation, Newt can't help but smile, looking over to the silently fuming Hermione, bound by his side. Chuckles slip from his lips, catching all those present off guard.

* * *

 _He's lost it. Newt's finally lost it. We're magically bound by the Potters, held us at wand-point, an Auror on the way, and he's laughing. He's gone mad!_

Rolling her eyes, Hermione settles her gaze on Henry Potter, ignoring his son and daughter-in-law for the moment. He looks at her as though she's a difficult puzzle he needs to solve.

 _Can't blame him, considering everything that's happened tonight._ She thinks, recalling the altercation before they entered the property.

It's odd, Hermione can count the number of Pureblood properties she's willingly visited on a single hand, with fingers left to spare. Her experience with familial magik may be limited, but there's something different about this.

 _Maybe they're more powerful? Or because I have a connection to them…_

* * *

Hermione holds back her protesting groan. Henry presses the tip of his wand against the back of her neck; she kept her hands raised, to show that she possesses no malicious intentions.

Bless Newt. He's still trying to convince Henry otherwise, grasping at any semblance of an argument in their favour. It's no use, though. Her intimate knowledge of their family secrets and the death of Percival Graves paints them in a bad light.

Honestly, she didn't mean to keep his wand; she returned the executioner's wand to the President, herself, upon the request of its owner. With everything that's going on, she just forgot that she had Graves' wand in her beaded bag — not that hard to do considering how much stuff is in there. Out of sight, out of mind. If someone had asked, she would've given it back, but no one did.

The intricately carved archways of the gate loom over them ominously underneath the moonlit night. She bites down hard on her lip as memories of her time spent in Malfoy Manner nips at the edge of her mind.

She shakes her head and the memories away. Now is not the time to —

A wave of Magic crashes into her with all the subtlety of an Erumpent just as she steps past the wards; she shivers as electricity thrums beneath her skin.

Newt gasps, Hermione takes a quick glance, aware as she takes in his startled expression and laboured breath.

 _Did he feel it too? Curious—_

Behind her, Henry freezes, redrawing his wand an inch away as he experiences, what she assumes is a similar sensation.

 _A shared experience — though, are we experiencing the same thing?_

If she's correct, Henry's the Potter Patriarch. It makes sense that he has a stronger connection to the family wards and magik. Newt, on the other hand, perhaps it's through the connection they have?

It's unsettling, at first, unlike anything she has ever experienced before.

The volatile reaction of the familial magik towards her presence, coming at her in waves as they assess and examine the unknown intruder on their grounds. Her nerve endings blaze with white flames as the excess energy causes sparks underneath the thin layer of her skin. Within seconds, the attack relents, confused.

 _Is she a guest, an enemy, a friend or perhaps something more?_ The ancient magik seems unsure.

Henry's as shocked as Hermione is at the violent response, never before has he experienced such a sensation with guests, both hostile and friendly.

The magik rages within them and, to a lesser extent, Newt too.

Pulse quickening, heavy breathing, Hermione feels oxygen deprived and lightheaded until the magik stills, finding whatever it is, it's looking for.

Tension disperses as a blanket of warmth descends over her skin, her magic responds pleasantly to the change. Tears springing to her eyes unbidden, a swell of emotions crushing her heart.

 _Oh, Harry._ She sobs quietly behind her lips.

Hermione never equated home to a single location. It can never be something as simple as that.

In her time, home was her loved ones, her parents, Harry and at one point, Ron. Home was, to a lesser extent, the Weasley family, little Teddy, Luna, Neville and even Professor McGonagall. Home was her beloved cat, Crookshanks, before she lost him to the war.

Even 70 years into the past, she found a home in Newt. Queenie and Jacob too, despite the distance that divides them now.

 _Nothing as great as 70 years._ She lets out a bitter laugh as the family magik continues to creep along her skin.

Tear-filled eyes slide over to Newt before meeting the confused and frightened gaze of Henry Potter.

Home, it seems will always be with the Potters as well. No matter the time, no matter the place, a family can be made, a home can be found with the ancestors of those she once called friends.

* * *

Henry clearly has no idea what to do with them. He didn't even bother telling his son and daughter-in-law anything when he brought Hermione and Newt, magically-bound into their dimly lit drawing room before penning a quick letter to an Auror he trusted.

Hermione's tempted to ask why he chose that particular method of correspondence, given that there's a fireplace right there with a jar of Floo powder on top of the mantel. A Floo call is certainly quicker, but she decides against asking, content to examine her memories of the evening so far, interested in the family dynamic and architecture of the manor's room.

His son and daughter-in-law argued and fumed, the dark-haired woman repeatedly saying how bad manner it is of them to bind an invited guest. But Henry refuses to relent, keeping his gaze on Hermione's as the hands of the clock tick by. His silence is telling as they wait for the arrival of the Auror.

By the time the Floo roars into life, Hermione feels antsy. Although she feels content to continue to silently stare at the Potter Patriarch, his stillness and unblinking eyes begin to unnerve her.

"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, just what have you done now?" The familiar voice of Theseus Scamander bellows as he steps out from the fireplace, brushing the soot aggressively from his robes.

"Oh, we're using full names now, are we?" Newt asks with a hint of laughter, a mirthful smile on his lips, despite the tense situation they're in.

"I have half a mind to forbid you from seeing Hermione ever again if the two of you continue to insist upon actively seeking out trouble." Hermione narrows her eyes, spotting his rumpled clothes, overgrown stubble and the slight slur to his voice.

 _Has he been drinking?_ Her eyes dart around the room, realizing that she isn't the only one to have come to that conclusion.

"You aren't my mother—" Newt bites back with a piercing stare.

"No, but I am the Acting Head of the Scamander family."

"Been drinking again, have we?" Newt asks, bitterness laced in his tone. Hermione quirks a brow at his response, somewhat unfamiliar with this side of Newt.

"You have no—"

"You only ever lord your status as Family Head over me when you've been drinking." Theseus steps forward, long legs carrying him further into the room as he pins his younger brother with an irritated glare.

"What of it? I just received word that my friend has died — More to the point, it's the middle of the night, I hardly expected any callers given the late—"

"It's only 7PM..." Hermione points out under her breath; a light blush covers her cheeks when she realizes they heard her.

Everyone turns to look at her, letting the statement sink in. Theseus' eyes widen in shock, mouth agape as he attempts to formulate a response.

From her side, Newt starts choking, she looks to him in concern but rolls her eyes when she notices his shaking shoulders and the way he's struggling to hold onto his composure. Within seconds, he dissolves into laughter, bursting out from him in great guffaws. A delicate feminine laugh soon joins him, until finally, all but Hermione and Theseus are laughing, even the corner of Henry's lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles.

 _Just like home._ The warmth building within comforts her, despite this foreign time and unfamiliar place.

Surrounded by those that were ancient or dead, the Halls of the Potter Manor fills with life. At that moment, Hermione Jean Granger feels that she can breathe just a little bit easier, for now.

* * *

 **Author Notes** : EliexChan: Ahah well this one's a bit longer but not much... hopefully i'll get back up to my usual chapter lengths soon! Yeah i'm just trying to tie up a few loose ends atm and such so we can properly move forward. Needed to address Graves... it hurt to kill him off but I just didn't have much need for him in the fic sadly. Oh dear oh dear I imagine the meeting between Hermione and Albus will be rather interesting to say the least!

Fictionsrforme: Kickass Hermione is my favourite Hermione! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far and I hope I continue to impress! As for Credence... I don't really know what kind of mess he's just entered into with meeting Albus but he will meet Newt again don't you worry!

IStartedAJoke: Surprise! It was from neither! That being said... I think we will meet those two very, very soon...

meerkaat: ...Praise the lord! Yessss.


	26. Leta Lestrange

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** Any of you guys still with me? Jeez am I ever sorry about the long wait for this chapter... I could list all my excuses to you but it'd just be a big old waste of time. I will say that the biggest hurdle while writing this chapter was that I just quit smoking (wooo me! Still going strong!) soon after releasing the previous chapter and that seemed to send me into the pit of writers block since I often smoked and drank coffee in the morning while banging out these chapters.

Anywho it took me a while but i'm back! This chapters a bit shorter than i'd like and may not be the best but i'm hoping it will give me that push to get writing again... already I have a ton of new ideas and more fully formed ideas floating around in my head.

Thank you to all those who waited... I sincerely hope I don't disappoint and thank you to Nyxie who was a huge, huge, hugeeee help with this latest chapter and is just generally awesome.

Anyway i've wasted enough time. Your long awaited replies at the bottom... Onto the chapter!

* * *

The silence is suffocating. The warmth and laughter filling the ancient drawing room within Potter Manor gone. The building's warmth swiftly snuffed out by the weight of the questions bearing down upon their heads.

With a soft sigh, Hermione's tired brown eyes fall on Newt's bound, and silently fuming form. A small smile pulling at her lips, the corners of her eyes softening ever so slightly. Although she loathes to admit it, Hermione understands why she is still bound to the chair.

A mysterious woman they knew little about, with an intimate knowledge of their family and most guarded secrets. That would raise a number of alarm bells for any intelligent wizard. Plus, her tendency to possess wands that were not hers does little to help her case. More to the point, one of said wands belongs to a dead man, and the other is virtually drenched in residual dark magic. Thankfully, Henry hasn't seemed all that eager to share the strange experience which occurred after entering the grounds, involving the family magiks and Hermione's own. All the same, it is certainly a struggle to paint her in a positive light, a fact that Newt quickly learns.

Despite Newt's defense on her behalf, they deemed it to be far too great a risk to allow Hermione free range within their ancestral home. Both Theseus and the Potters agree that Newt is no threat to themselves. But in response to their offer for his freedom, he made it abundantly clear that if they refuse to release Hermione, he will do everything in his power to get them out of there, he truly meant _everything._ Considering his normally gentle and light-hearted attitude, he seems to be taking a great deal of pleasure in describing exactly how he would pull off their escape.

One of his more interesting plans involved a horde of Garden Gnomes and a Jarvey. Even through her laughter, Hermione can't help but notice the way the corners of Newt's eyes seem to pull tight at the mention of the Jarvey, as though an old memory is causing him pain.

Casting a curious glance across the room, she notices that he isn't the only one reacting oddly. Both Theseus and Henry seems to find the carpet awfully interesting as Euphemia's girlish, good-natured laughter continues to fill the air, even after Hermione and Fleamont had calmed.

Hermione bites down on her lip in thought, rapidly shuffling through the shelves upon shelves of information and facts stored deep within the recesses of her mind. A curious look crossing her face as she finally lands on the information regarding the Jarvey.

Jarvey, a creature resembling an overgrown ferret and is commonly found in Great Britain, Ireland and North America. Capable of human speech and sometimes employed to De-Gnome gardens, though their methods were extremely brutal.

XXX classification, if Hermione remembers correctly. Most interestingly, one of the few creatures native to Great Britain that was not included in the first edition of Newt's book. It stands out the most with Hermione, even now she can't shake the sense of foreboding. Curious and worried brown eyes boring into Newt's fuming form.

It didn't escape her notice that Newt is now refusing to meet her gaze.

* * *

 _This is getting them nowhere._ Henry thinks with a sigh; he discreetly shifts his weight from side to side.

There was enough tension in the room before Newt had gone ahead and brought up a number of difficult memories by mentioning the Jarvey, but now it's even worse. The only parties unaffected and unaware of the current situation seem to be his son, daughter-in-law and the mysterious Ms. Granger, to a much lesser extent.

If her unwavering stare at the youngest Scamander brother is anything to go by, it is clear that Newt has yet to share that part of his life with her. Though, unlike Fleamont and Euphemia, it does not escape her notice that the mention of the Jarvery has added an extra layer of tension to the room. It seems she'll soon learn why exactly there is so much tension between the once close brothers. Their bickering is nothing new, the two brothers as different as day and night, despite their appearances. It has been years since Henry first met the Scamander brothers, but he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Henry's only eight years Theseus's senior. Closer in age to the pair of brothers than his eldest son and charming wife, Euphemia. It was the summer of 1909 when they first met. Newt had just finished his first year at Hogwarts, Theseus his fifth. Their father, who was largely absent for much of their lives, recently passed and their mother, a woman only a few years older than Henry himself, was left to care for the two rebellious young boys all on her own.

Having known Cressida Scamander and her husband through his father's alliance and the connection between the families, Henry and his wife helped out whenever they could whilst the boys were away at Hogwarts.

Henry was surprised that Cressida wasn't driven mad by the pair. Theseus was constantly getting into trouble at Hogwarts. Since his first year, the eldest Scamander made a name for himself as a troublemaker. Though it wasn't until his third year, after his first meeting with Sixth Year Ravenclaw, Dominic Shafiq that the letters home became more frequent. Theseus was given detention persistently, and the letters often cited various disputes and incidents with the Ravenclaw. Even before Lord Scamander's death, Cressida was left to deal with the boys' mess, constantly sending out apology letters on behalf of her son, begging forgiveness from several Ancient, Pureblood families, many of which that were rather unforgiving.

And Newt — Well, let's just say that little had changed in regards to his behavior and interests. There was never a creature or beast that hadn't called out to the boy, his thirst for knowledge and understanding was unquenchable, which eventually brought about a great deal of suffering for his family, and those he once called friends. Henry would never forget the day he and the Wizengamot had been called to Hogwarts to make an emergency ruling to expel a student. Little did he know, the student in question was someone he knew quite well.

He thanked Merlin, every day, that Cressida did not live to see that day. The shame Newt brought upon his family. A shame that Theseus worked hard to correct for the past 14 years, a shame that had driven an unmovable wedge between the once close brothers.

 _Honesty, who would have thought two Hufflepuff's could get into so much trouble._ With a frown and a shake of his head, Henry attempts to ignore the wisps of memories forming within his mind. He refocuses back to Hermione Granger with the occasional glimpses of the family Magik, swirling lazily about her person. Feeling centered, he pushes his thoughts on the Scamander brothers and the days gone by away.

The curious topic of his family's Magick and its reaction to Ms. Granger is a conversation that desperately needs to be addressed; however, he has no idea how to go about it. Henry is also rather apprehensive to bring it up in front of the Scamanders and his family. Henry can't help but believe that the mystery will partially solve itself by learning how exactly Ms. Granger obtained such intimate knowledge of his family.

 _Just who in the world is Hermione Jean Granger? How is she connected to the Potter family, to him?_

Henry bites back a curse as their eyes meet, intelligent whiskey coloured eyes boring into his intriguing hazel pair. A chill raceing across his spine as her magic reaches out, gently caressing his own.

Instinctively, he summons his wand into his hand. A shaky breath falling from his parted lips as he trains it directly on Hermione, drawing the attention of all those present. All bar Theseus and Hermione verbally protest, but Henry stays still as a statue, wand raised and at the ready.

Another chill race through him as she quirks a brow, the corner of her lips pulling up ever so slightly. His mouth runs dry, pulse pounding as the image of a majestic lioness crosses his mind, her terrifying, powerful roar silencing every thought within his mind.

He struggles to swallow as she opens her mouth, a somewhat shaky laugh falling from her lips as her quiet voice fills the room, instantly silencing any protests within.

"Home, Henry. The magic it feels just like home." Henry's eyes widen, his own thoughts confirmed. Theseus, Fleamont, and Euphemia look at her in complete confusion, a shocked silence, very much unlike the suffocating one from before canvassing the dimly lit drawing room.

* * *

 _Will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?_ Hermione thinks derisively as Henry stalks forward, his footsteps halted only when his son Fleamont physically places himself between them.

"Veritaserum. Bring me some Veritaserum, now." Henry hollowly says, looking past his son, hazel eyes fixed on Hermione.

Hermione rolls her eyes with a heavy breath. Kind, sweet Newt begins protesting once more, Theseus looking on with the most curious expression, brilliant blue eyes focused on the Potters.

"Veritaserum..." Fleamont drawls incredulously, unable to believe what his father is saying. He shares a glance with his wife, sitting silently on the love seat with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Merlin, I don't just keep the stuff lying around, Father. The Ministry strictly controls its distribution and Brewers — I'm not going to hand over a vial of the most potent truth serum available without learning why exactly you've bound Ms. Granger and find it so necessary to question her. You haven't explained a thing. All we know is that you invited them, only to bind them and felt the need to summon Theseus. Answer my question, and I'll see what I can do."

There's a pause as the tension within the room continues to build.

"Cantankerus Nott, a schoolmate of yours, I believe. That bigoted arse thinks he's secretive, but it's the worst kept secret within certain, Pureblood circles. Young Mr. Nott is currently penning a list detailing all those families considered to be of the purest of blood. Ms. Granger, despite her well-known heritage, seems to have intimate knowledge of this project, including our supposed exclusion, which honestly I cannot say surprises me. Though I am curious to learn how she knows of our more liberal leanings and beliefs." Hermione sighs, lips pulling down into a frown at Henry's calmly spoken words. "More alarming than that, however, is the fact that she knows of our main Vault number and our most secret and prized family heirloom-"

"You can't mean?" Fleamont's question tumbles out from his mouth in a sharp breath.

"I do. Not even your mother was aware of this particular heirloom. Furthermore, Ms. Granger is in possession of, not one, but three different wands. One is hers, a testament to her power and is covered in her magical signature. The second the wand of a man recently found dead. However, the last wand is drenched in enough residual dark magic to make my skin crawl. The faded magical signature is somewhat disturbingly familiar, but does not belong to Ms. Granger." Silence meets his proclamation, but a masculine cough cuts through it and draws their attention.

"Henry, but you've only just met Hermione today," Theseus says in a slow and grave tone. Henry nods. "Then, how is it that you're familiar with her magic?"

Euphemia gasps. All eyes turning to Henry Potter as he attempts to formulate a reply. He and Hermione share a look. She quirks her brow as though issuing a challenge. From her side, she can just barely hear Newt sigh exasperatedly.

The howling winds fill the room as silence reigns. Hermione watches as Henry gulps, hard. The tension grows thick as Theseus' hard gaze flickers between her and the Potter patriarch. Hermione barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes at Theseus and his antics.

 _Best to avoid antagonizing my captors any further._ She thinks, a slight smile curving her lips.

A clock ticks faintly in the distance, its hands moving slowly across its face as the minutes slowly pass. No one has any idea what to say, a shocked silence canvassing the room as they awkwardly look from one another.

Hermione squirms in her seat, nervous energy building steadily within her now, the Potter family magick and her own rolling about her skin in response.

A chill races down along her spine, the corners of her eyes pulling tight; any trace of amusement with their current situation vanishing as she pins Henry with an imploring stare. In response, the Potter Patriarch looks about the room, lingering on the tense and questioning forms of his son and Theseus before dropping his wand to his side.

The tension seeps from the room as a collective sigh is loosed. Henry lifts a single, shaking hand, and runs it through his messy black hair. A low, apprehensive sigh falling from his lips as he begins his tale.

* * *

 _A trip would be lovely._ Newt sighs as Henry nears the end of his tale. His head drops forward, eyes fluttering shut. His companions' voices rise and fall, filling the room as they attempt to shout over one another, each person eager have their own voices heard. He's tempted to look to Hermione, curious to see her reaction, yet he restrains himself, choosing instead to focus on his breathing and steadying his nerves.

It is little wonder that Newt prefers the company of beasts and creatures to that of humans if these past few months were anything to go by. The current situation beginning to grate on his nerves.

 _Shock, fear, suspicion and anger. Why is it that humans, when faced with the unknown always respond in kind?_ Newt muses, quietly humming under his breath in an attempt to drown out the noise around him.

 _Perhaps a trip to the South of France? There have been rumours as of late claiming that a Snallygaster has been sighted in the area—_ At the thought Newt's eyes flutter open, a deep wrinkle forming between his brows.

 _No. No. Terrible idea. Perhaps we should go hunting for a less… volatile beast._ He thinks in a rush, biting down on his lip, sucking it between his teeth as an excited gleam enters his eyes. _A Snallygaster though - a Snallygaster in France. What in the world could it be doing there? If the rumours really were indeed true—_

Newt's suddenly pulled from his thoughts as silence falls over the room. He leans back in his chair, blowing his coppery brown hair away from his face with a huff before looking around with a curious gaze.

An agonizing minute passes before a feminine cough breaks the tension.

"I think you should trust her, and them. I have a feeling that only Ms. Granger can tell us why our family's magiks reacted the way it did. I imagine it has something to do with why she possesses such intimate knowledge regarding the Potter family and their secrets. A little trust goes a long way. How can you expect her to tell us a thing when you've magically bound her and Mr. Scamander like a pair of common criminals?" Euphemia states with a punctuated, sharp little laugh as she meets Newt's gaze. A small smile pulls at the corner of her lips, the slightest hint of teeth making her look very predatory in that moment, opposed to a docile prey as her manner of dress may suggest. "What do you say, Henry? Give the pair a bit of breathing room, question them like a civilized adult, and perhaps they'll be more willing to give you the answers you seek."

"And—" Euphemia pauses, sharing a look with her husband. "If that fails… although we don't have any Veritaserum on hand; _we_ _do_ know someone who does." Euphemia compromises, her dark brown eyes boring into the depths Newt's soul through her gaze.

Newt forces himself to look away as anxiety and fear clawe his heart. He has no idea where the sudden rush of dread came from, but for some unfathomable reason, he feels like they're dancing right on the edge of a blade. His apprehension intensifies as his eyes settle on Henry.

Henry looks conflicted; hazel gaze darting between Fleamont, Newt, and Hermione before finally settling on Newt. The weight of his gaze unsettling.

Meeting his conflicted look, Newts brows furrow in thought. A cold sweat breaking out across his skin as he attempts to place the look in Henry's eyes.

 _Worry, regret and perhaps the slightest touch of... fear?_ He instinctively shivers. Henry looks away, summoning his wand to his hand before mumbling a quiet spell under his breath.

The ropes fall slack around them; Hermione slowly getting to her feet beside him a pleased sound falling from her lips.

Although he's finally free, Newt feels frozen in place. That bubble of fear and apprehension continue to build within him, a wisp of a memory consolidating in the darkest recesses of his mind.

 _Don't be ridiculous._ Newt thinks as he attempts to catch Henry's eye.

Try as he might, the Potter Patriarch firmly refuses to look his way. His blood runs cold.

* * *

Miles away, in a Manor much like the Potter's, a single room is bathed in light.

If any thought to look into what was originally meant to be the ladies' drawing room, they'd be met with a rather eerie sight. In the centre is a potions laboratory, where a young woman stands in a thin, flowing dress of the most startling shade of white enshrouding her lithe body.

The dim, flickering light of the candles, strategically placed around the room, cast ghoulish shadows on the wall. A bubbling cauldron signals to the woman the potion's readiness. She bustles about, her flowing, almost indecent, white robes — a stark contrast against her dark skin and even darker hair.

She hums quietly under her breath, peering into one of the cages that dangle down from the ceiling. A soft sigh slips from her lips, she takes note of the creature inside and its current state.

 _Another failure._ She groans in frustration. Pivoting on her heel, a handful of graceful steps carrying her across the length of the room. With steady, practiced hands she plucks a few leafs of Motherwort from its stem and tosses the loose leaves into the bubbling cauldron. The dark-haired woman stirs twice before extinguishing the flame. Before it has a chance to cool, she swiftly bottles the potion, a satisfied look dancing across her face as she notes its perfect consistency and colour.

 _Nothing but the best._ Her lips curl into a small smile as she labels each vial, setting them aside for delivery in the morning.

* * *

"Who?" Newt asks; anxiety and fear clear in his voice. "Who would have Veritaserum on hand?" All eyes fall on his form; Hermione's fingers seeking out his own.

A sudden wave of calm crashes into him as their hands meet. It feels like a great weight has been lifted from his chest, making it easier to breathe. He turns his head ever so slightly, gifting Hermione a small smile of thanks. She answers with the slightest squeeze of her hand.

Unfortunately, the calm vanishes as abruptly as it came. Henry's hazel eyes settle firmly on the floor.

"Lestrange. Leta Lestrange." He replies, tone grave.

Fear, terror, anxiety and hatred slam into Newt, the sheer force of the overwhelming emotions nearly sending him to his knees. A pained groan tears its way from his lips as he looks down at Hermione and his joined hands. Their companions rush forward, their tones taking on a frantic edge as Newt's gaze falls upon Hermione. He wants nothing more than to reach out to her, to gently cup her cheek, pull her close into his embrace, and whisper sweet nothings until her frayed nerves are finally soothed. To ride out this wave of anxiety and fear together until it's nothing more than a distant memory.

"Hermione." He groans, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He tries to reach out to her with his free hand, but an unexpected spike of pain bends him in half. His free arm, now cradles his stomach, as his legs give way and he drops to his knees. Their hands remain joined as he continues to stare at Hermione — his lips parted, mouth running dry, his vision beginning to blur. Through the haze, he takes note of her wildly curled hair, splayed about her head like a riotous halo and the way her whiskey-coloured eyes seem to be ablaze with emotion.

However, what's more shocking are the swirls of magic he swears he can see, dancing and weaving across her skin in a hypnotizing way.

Is it a hallucination? He can't be sure.

"Stunning" He mumbles, the feeling of unadulterated awe tumbling from his lips unbidden as the world falls away, a cradle of darkness meeting his descent.

* * *

 **Author Notes** : Once again really sorry for the wait... also i'm not in top shape atm, but really wanted to get this chapter out so if any of my responses seem kind of nonsensical i apologize. I promise i'll try my best to update really, really soon! Hopefully i've gotten over that spot of writers block!

EliexChan: mmmmm i'm not sure i'd say that Theseus is an alcoholic but he does act a certain way whenever he drinks which is something Newt seems to be very much aware of. Ohh yes! He most certainly has some secrets of his own! Everyone does!

SassenachStarbuck: I think that's mostly answered in this chapter? Maybe? Sorry a bit tired atm. I'll need to re-read this chapter tomorrow to make sure that I properly addressed that.

Alice-Ann Wonderland: Right?! Those pesky Potters!

wawo20: Thank you, i'm glad you enjoyed it! Hope I didn't just make a huge mess of it with this chapter...

Fictionsrforme: Home will always be found with the Potters in some form. I think her relationship with Harry is very, very important... even if I haven't addressed it too much. Hmmmm well. Yes. Graves wand was taken by Grindelwald and Hermione then took that wand from him. I think i've read that certain wood types (for wands) can easily change allegiance if taken in a duel. Since it was never really addressed in the film why Grindelwald could so easily use Graves's wand I assume it may have something to do with that or maybe compatible magics, or perhaps it had something to do with the human transfiguration. Ohhhhh! Did you think Hermione had taken the Elder wand?! I originally did too actually but apparently old Grindelwald was smart enough to hide that one away. MMmmmm i'm not entirely sure when Credence will meet Hermione and Newt again... probably soon... Hopefully... I'm not entirely sure how I want Hermione/ Newt's first meeting with Dumbledore to play out... still working on that.

Nicole-Witch-Poseidon'sLilGirl: Ahh I hope I didn't lose you with my mini hiatus here. Thank you for the kind words! We'll probably get much deeper into Newt and Theseus's relationship yet don't you worry! It's only the beginning... I say as i'm 26 chapters deep...

Ahhh yes. I did not mean to bash Tina all that much... though it did kind of happen. Don't get me wrong I totally did not hate her in the film! Found her a bit irritating at first/ reminded me a bit of young Hermione but the whole reason I was a bit hard on her is simply because I just didn't really have a need for her in the fic and wanted some extra drama without turning it into a love triangle. Ahhhh I cannot wait for Hermione and Queenie to meet again! I am totally looking forward to that!'

No worries i'm not even close to done with Grindelwald yet. He and Hermione will be meeting again. Just need to deal with a few things in Britain first. Ugh I feel so bad I noticed I was kind of ignoring Newt which is why i gave him that little bit in this chapter... really need to focus on Newt a bit more. I think Newt will have quite a few badass moments in the near future... at least that's my hope.

Mmmm normally I update more regularly. Maybe a chapter every two weeks at the most? Not really sure how the update schedule will be after this chapter but I hope I never take this long to release a new chapter again! I really did not mean to have this mini hiatus of mine! As for your other question. Nope. We will not. That is a firm no. Though... depending on how long this fic goes on there's a real good chance that we will be meeting some old friends from the future again.


	27. The Jarvey Incident and a Family Matter

**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fanfiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

 **Author Note:** **(IMPORTANT- Read it...)**

Alright. Let's have a little chat before we get to the good bits... well I certainly hope you like what I have to offer to you guys today :).

To start I just want to say thank you to everyone who has left reviews full of comments, words of encouragement, questions and constructive criticism. You guys give me life and constantly ensure that I won't just drop this fic without a word. Thank you for patiently waiting if you're all still with me and I promise i'll try to do better with my update schedule but I honestly just can't make any promises at the moment. That being said, I CAN promise that I will never drop this fic without a notice/ word to you all! Even if I take a while to update I WILL be back to continue the story unless I post something saying otherwise. So never worry that i've just dropped this fic... you know unless there are super, super extenuating circumstances.

Now then. Let's get to the real point of this little rant, hope the people i'm attempting to address are still reading this. Let's have a quick chat about reviewing etiquette. All those things I mentioned above (i.e. Words of encouragement, questions, constructive criticism, etc...) are all great examples of a good/ proper review. You can say things like _"Hope you update soon."_ or _"Can't wait for the next update."_ and that's all good. I get a few of those and I truly am sorry that I make you guys wait so long at times... I honestly hate going this long between updates as well!

What's not cool are reviews like _"Type faster it's been over a month since the last update."_ or _"Update the fucking fanfiction it's been over a month."_ (sorry about the language guys). Now these were both sent on anon, I could have just deleted them and I will if you continue to send in these types of reviews. The only reason I approved them this time was so I could remember to address them.

I get it. It's summer, some of you are probably students and such, just getting out of school, have some more time on your hands and want to read some fics. That's awesome! I know how much it sucks to have to wait ages for an update on a story you're really enjoying and the joy you get when you finally see it updated. That being said i'm not a student and I don't have a ton of time on my hands all the time (Totally not saying all students have a ton of time on their hands either!). I'm an adult, with a full time job, a job which is far busier and time consuming during the summer. Not to mention sometimes life just generally gets in the way/ you just can't write because the creative juices refuse to flow. More to the point... i'm not getting paid for this which you're all aware of. I'm writing this fic for myself and you, for fun and because no one else was writing about this pairing. So how about you just refrain from being a massive dick about how long an update's taking? I'll update when I can, being a dick about it isn't going to make me write any quicker... honestly if anything reviews like that really, really rub me the wrong way and kind of kill my mood to write making the wait for the next chapter even longer.

Just be polite! I'm not saying don't give me constructive criticism and such just don't be a dick for lack of a better word!

Anywho, enough of that! Hope this chapter isn't a complete mess and you guys are still with me! I'll try my best to update soon! Thank you to Nyxie for being an awesome beta and sticking with me despite my long absences!

Personal responses at the bottom! Onto the story!

* * *

"...Newt."

Someone's calling his name. It sounds distant and as if, it isn't truly his own thought. The surrounding darkness muffles the noise of the world around. His mind feels sluggish as if it's being dragged through a puddle of tar.

"Newt." There it is again. A feminine and achingly familiar voice that latches onto him like a lifeline, attempting to lead him out and into the light. That familiar voice, sounding so close, yet so very far away.

 _"Newt!"_ His eyes shoot open. Startled, a curse falls from his lips as a sharp slap violently tears him away from his momentary reverie. He pins the woman in question with a stupefied look, his mouth dropping open, the stinging in his cheek — a painful reminder of his less than stellar wake-up call.

Hermione has the decency to look, at least, somewhat apologetic. A rosy blush covering her freckled cheeks as she kneels beside him with her dark brown eyes flickering, rapidly over his person.

Newt responds in kind; blue eyes darting over her frame, taking stock of her appearance as he searches for any sign of injury.

 _It was a hallucination then._ He breathes out a relieved sigh, taking note of the lack of raw magical energy dancing and weaving across her tanned skin.

 _Not even a hair out of place._

A small smile stretches across his lips. A sudden rush of relief racing across his senses before slamming into a wall of confusion. He quirks a brow, the corners of his lips quirk down as he examines her fabric clad knees.

"Hermione—" He begins hesitantly with a questioning lilt to his voice. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but were we not in the drawing room of Potter Manor, only moments before and not a forest... Is-is this another hallucination?" He pauses as their eyes meet. "Are you really... well - you?"

The howling winds cause Newt to turn to the sky, watching with wide eyes as the canopy of trees above their heads sway in the breeze.

 _The trees are real. Or so they seem..._

Something is wrong. Something is missing. Newt's brows furrow, eyes focusing on the world around them, until finally, it hits him. He realizes just what is missing… it's silent. There's not a noise, not even the sounds of creatures that are normally found in any forest. The absence of smell, not a single scent lingers in the air, not even the smell of the moist dirt, that clings to his skin and covers his clothes. Most interestingly is the sky. The sky looks clear and bright and yet the sun is nowhere to be seen. There is no way to tell what time of day it is, or how much sunlight they may yet have left.

 _Fascinating_. Newt muses, lifting a dirty hand to the sky, squinting his eyes as though attempting to riddle it out until a rustle of fabric pulls him back to reality.

"Or, whatever this may be." He mumbles quietly under his breath as he looks to Hermione, standing before him now, hand outstretched with a guarded look in her whisky-coloured eyes.

Without a thought, Newt reaches out, calloused fingers finding purchase upon her lightly scarred skin. He relaxes a little as he feels the heat radiating off of her palm, laying a few of his unspoken doubts to rest. Yet, there is a sliver of doubt that continues to dwell within as she pulls him to his feet. He parts his lips, a question dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you real— Are you really... you?" Hermione asks; her words mimicking Newt's own. A touch of mistrust and fear filtering through her eyes.

"Are any of us really?" Newt asks with a small, playful smile dancing across his lips as he holds her gaze.

Newt doesn't miss the flash of irritation in her eyes or the exasperated sigh that falls from her lips, though they do nothing to stop his smile from growing. A toothy grin filling his face as he pulls her close. Her frowning lips transforming into an 'O' as a rush of breath is released from her lungs.

A thrill races through Newt as their bodies meld together. Hermione's wild, curls tickling his cheek as he buries his nose into her hair. He inhales deeply, feeling his body relax ever so slightly as her familiar scent filters through his senses.

A beat later, he pulls away. His free hand resting upon her chin as he tilts her face up so he can gaze into her eyes. He wonders now if she can see the spark of fear and unease in him — the same that he sees in her.

 _Of course, she can._ A jolt of pleasure rushes through him as her free hand snakes around his waist, her curious fingers easily sliding beneath the layers of clothing before digging into his rapidly warming skin.

 _Feels real enough._ He licks his lips, Hermione's eyes following his every move.

"This place—" Hermione mutters lowly, a hint of gravel in her tone as she slowly lifts her gaze. "It isn't real, it can't be..."

Newt hums quietly under his breath, hand dropping to her hip where he begins to draw lazy circles on her fabric-clad skin.

"I take it you know where we are." A statement, not a question.

Hermione sucks her lower lip into her mouth, worrying the sensitive skin between her teeth.

"It's the Forbidden Forest." The statement hangs between them, motions stilled as the winds howls turn into roars.

* * *

The howling wind breaks the uneasy silence blanketing the room, as Fleamont takes stock of the current situation in the drawing room of Potter Manor.

The room's occupants are shaken. In the corner Theseus sits rigidly in one of the wingback chairs, elbows on his knees, hands pressed together as though in a silent prayer.

Henry stands by the fireplace, gaze firmly attached to the unconscious, wild-haired woman propped up on the loveseat beside the equally unconscious, youngest Scamander brother.

 _Euphemia._ His beautiful wife is crouched in front of the loveseat — a safe distance from the unconscious pair — wand out as she draws a series of complex spells in the air, attempting to discover what exactly happened.

Fleamont is tempted to go to her when he notices the sweat beading along her hairline, but he stays pressed against the wall with a tumbler filled with fingers of whiskey, at the sight of her full lips set in a stubborn line, mumbling under her breath.

If things had been different. If Euphemia had been born in another time or to another family, perhaps, his darling wife would have made a brilliant curse breaker. If any in this room could figure out what was wrong with Hermione and Newt, it would be Euphemia.

Fleamont drops his gaze to the swirling brown liquid within his glass, a thoughtful look filling his face as the incident that occurred mere moments before replays as a memory within his head.

 _'—Leta Lestrange.'_

Two words. The name of Fleamont's silent business partner and acquaintance seemingly acted as the catalyst for the incident. Moments after her name fell from his father's lips, it all went to hell — and honestly, that was saying something considering how well their meeting with Ms. Granger and Mr. Scamander had gone thus far.

When Newt fell, Theseus was quick to draw his wand, shooting off a quick succession of spells at Hermione, instantly dubbing her a threat as his brother fell unconscious to the floor.

Theseus's aim was true, but not one of his spells hit their mark...

 _The air grew thick and heady; an electric charge filled the space around them as Fleamont watched the scene before him with wide eyes. He quickly rushed forward in an attempt to assist Newt as he fell, though it became evident that something was blocking their way, making it impossible to reach Newt. Or Hermione._

 _Raw magical energy seemed to swirl and dance around Newt's companion, colourful wisps of power licked at her tanned, golden skin as her dark brown hair curled wildly about her head like Medusa's serpents._

 _If her eyes hadn't been closed... well, best not to dwell on that ridiculous thought._

 _Theseus shot off a quick succession of spells at Hermione, but each seemed to hit a cocoon-like barrier before bursting into a shower of brilliantly coloured sparks._

 _A violent string of curses tumbled from his lips before suddenly halting as a numbing silence fell upon them. The whorls of magic dancing across Hermione's skin was lashing out, yet caused no harm as a sigh fell quietly from her lips, knees giving out as she falls to the ground, unconscious, her body splayed, lifelessly, like a ragdoll._

Fleamont lifts his glass to his lips, hand trembling the slightest bit. The whiskey warms his tongue and throat as he takes an ample gulp, in an attempt to calm his nerves.

It doesn't work.

For a moment, just one, Fleamont had honestly thought she was dead. The way she had fallen, her limbs bent at awkward angles beneath her body, and yet the magiks continued to dance about her. Something achingly familiar about the odd metallic taste that seemed to permeate the air as the raw energy spiked.

"Henry—" Euphemia's tired voice cuts through his thoughts. "I'm having trouble healing her arm."

Fleamont silently watches as his father steps forward, stopping mere inches away from the loveseat. A quick glance about the room tells Fleamont that even Theseus is watching as his father reaches past the magical barrier. The, now, lazily moving wisps of magic licking his skin, accepting him as he gently grips Hermione's shoulders, turning her slightly, so Euphemia has a better angle to heal her injuries from.

His father's face relaxes a shade as the tension melts away from his features. Although Euphemia and Theseus seem confused by this reaction, Fleamont understands. He had experienced that very feeling only moments before.

 _Theseus stalked forward, wand still clutched tightly in hand, a look of intent on his face as he drew closer to Hermione and his brother._

 _There was no hesitation as he thrust his arm forward in an attempt to grasp his brother's arm; however, just like his spells, Theseus failed as the magiks, that were lazily swirling about Hermione reacted aggressively, lashing out in a violent flash of colour as they threw him across the room._

 _A startled gasp fell from Euphemia's lips as she rushed to Theseus's side, his quiet groan letting them know that he was mostly unharmed._

 _A flash of movement from his side drew his attention to his father. With wide eyes, he watched as Henry stepped forward with a focused look in his eyes as he approached the magical cocoon encasing Newt and Hermione. Fleamont opened his mouth, but his protest died on his lips as his father's hand easily passed the barrier. A relaxed look falling across his face as he pulled Hermione into a sitting position._

 _'Fleamont, come here." His words leaving no room for argument. Fleamont quickly complies. A rush of anxiety jolting through him just as he reaches the edge of the barrier, looking on apprehensively and fearful as he meets his fathers gaze. He was far too relaxed._

 _'Help me get them onto the loveseat.' Still, Fleamont hesitated, his body seemingly frozen in place._

 _'Home, Fleamont. The magik feels just like home.' He quirks a brow at his fathers words, easily recalling them from earlier that night. His eyes widening in shock as something clicks in his head. Tentatively, Fleamont reaches forward, meeting no resistance as he passes through the barrier, a sudden rush of calm smashing into him._

"Done." Immediately, Fleamont rushes towards Euphemia's side, his trip down memory lane shoved swiftly to the back of his mind. With trembling hands, he cups his beloved's face, gently caressing the smooth skin of her cheeks. He places a kiss on her temple, then rests his forehead against her own, burying his hands into her gently curling hair.

His father clears his throat, causing Fleamont to reluctantly release his wife, but not before slowly running his eyes along her body. He makes note of the deep blush that covers her cheeks, an amused smirk curving his lips as he turns to his father, a brow raised in question.

"Euphemia," Henry begins, hazel eyes firmly attached to his daughter-in-law. "Were you able to discern what has happened to our guests?" His father asks in an overly formal manner.

"Your guests—" Theseus begins to protest but halts at the sight of a hard look from the Potter Patriarch.

"Yes. _Both_ of our guests." His father replies, well aware of the conclusion to the thought Theseus had just begun to voice. "Euphemia?"

Fleamont shares a look with his wife, discreetly slipping his hand into her own, giving her a gentle squeeze to let her know that he's here. She rewards him with a small smile of thanks, before turning to face his father once more, squaring her shoulders.

"It's clear that Hermione and Newt are bound in some way—" A snort comes from Theseus with a hint of amusement, causing the trio to look at him in question as Euphemia continues.

 _He knows something._

"I can't tell you why, or how, but their magic is intrinsically bound. That's interesting enough on its own. However, I found another surprise whilst I was checking over Hermione. Not only is her magic intimately bound to Newt's, and his to hers. But, there's another, even more, familiar magical signature present."

Her statement hangs in the air. None of them all that surprised by the confirmation of their shared bond, but confused none the less...

"But how?" Fleamont can't help but ask, brows furrowed in thought and confusion. The night's events running through his head once more as he attempts to make sense of their unusual bond. "It's familial, without a doubt, but it doesn't make an ounce of sense." He continues, voicing the unspoken thought. "Given her age, the bond would have had to be made with one of us. Our distinctive family magic wouldn't have reacted so strongly if she was bound to one of the cadet branches or a Potter through marriage. It- It just makes no sense."

A masculine sigh fills the room, the legs of a chair scraping across the floor as Theseus stands. The Potters look to the man in question as he approaches them, long legs carrying him across the drawing room floor in no time at all.

"I can't be sure, but I think I may have an idea. There's something you should know. Something that may be best left unknown." Fleamont's heart skips a beat, a lump forming in his throat as he shares a wide-eyed look with Euphemia, hand clenching around her own reflexively.

A feeling of dread filling him now as he begins to imagine what more could possibly be said.

* * *

Hermione stares at Newt's back. Eyes pulled tight, jaw set in a stubborn line as she carefully treads across the uneven ground of the Forbidden Forest.

They'd only started walking around for a few moments, but it felt like longer. At first, they attempted to head in the general direction of Hogwarts; however, that didn't work. They only covered a few feet before bumping into an invisible barrier. After that, they decided to focus more on their surroundings. Hermione quickly realized that there was no castle in the distance. They were clearly on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, yet something wasn't right. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was nowhere to be found.

They tried each direction, steadfastly refusing to travel any deeper into the Forbidden Forest until it became apparent that it was their only choice.

Newt fell unusually silent as they journeyed deeper into the dense brush. The wind continuing to howl above their heads. Hermione's intelligent eyes focusing on his tensed shoulders and the slightest hint of hesitation in his steps.

This situation is unusual, without a doubt, but something more was off about Newt.

 _If it truly is him._ She thinks, a sliver of doubt swirling within her still.

Hermione's pulled away from her inner musings as a garbled, bestial scream fills the air.

Slowly, Newt turns. They share a look, eyes widening in shock as Hermione brakes into a run, roughly grabbing hold of a protesting Newt and dragging him behind her, pulling them deeper and deeper into the woods. Each, hurried step drawing them ever closer to that mysterious, bestial scream.

* * *

"—A childhood lost, a war to be won

There is much that must yet be done

A prophecy made, may yet come undone

For her journey through time has not yet begun"

Theseus's steady voice fills the room. The prophesized words falling from his slightly shaking lips as he brings their hosts up to speed. Praying to any gods listening that he isn't making a grave mistake. Truly hoping that he isn't wrong in what he believes yet very much afraid that he's right.

* * *

Hermione's breath comes in gasps. Her dark eyes darting about wildly, looking for any sign of danger as she weaves them between the rows of trees and brush. The bestial screams growing louder as she closes the distance between them and the potential threat.

Bile rises in her throat, the memory of her time on the run attempting to make its presence known. Behind her Newt protests, his words muffled by the howling wind and the blood pounding in her head.

She can't stop. Her senses kick into overdrive, nerve endings set ablaze as her fight-or-flight response is triggered.

Instead of running away, she runs towards the potential threat. Growing up the way she did, after all that Harry, Ron and she had faced in the war, there is little doubt to what she would choose. There was no other choice but to fight.

Whether what they were experiencing now was real or not, she just couldn't let it be.

* * *

"—Linger not, dear child, for you must make haste

Do not let this chance go to waste

As magic flares and sings, two shall become one

Yet do not try to outrun the sun

The sun will set, the dusk will fall

A song will be sung, the darkness will call

Euphemia gasps. Fleamont begins to curse quietly under his breath. Henry struggles to swallow the lump which has formed in his throat as a cold sweat breaks out across his hairline, Theseus's words really beginning to sink in.

Hazel eyes fall upon the forms of his unconscious guests, brows furrowing in thought as he takes note of Hermione's hand twitching around Newt's own, her lips seeming to move the slightest bit.

 _Curious._ He thinks; intellectual curiosity piqued once more before his attention is drawn back to Theseus and the worrisome prophecy falling from his lips.

* * *

Hermione comes to a grinding halt. Feet digging into the moist earth as they enter a clearing, deep within the canopy of trees, sequestered away in a seemingly abandoned section of the Forbidden Forest.

Frantic eyes take in the scene before her as she drops Newt's hand, taking a step forward, her shaking legs nearly sending her to the ground.

Before them, a young woman is kneeling on the forest floor, unaware or perhaps uncaring of the wet earth seeping into the knees of her dark grey socks, and the two intruders arriving in the clearing.

Before her is a large metal cage. The beast within hurling short, rude statements and phrases in a constant stream. High-pitched screeches and screams punctuating its speech every few _words_.

 _A Jarvey._ Hermione's mind supplies as she glances over her shoulder, noticing the look of alarm on Newt's face before turning back to the scene at hand.

The creature squirms, digging its hind legs into the ground before kicking up, sending a spray of mud onto the young woman.

She clucks her tongue. Irritated, she breathes through her nose and wipes at the mud staining her dark grey gymslip. The young girl palms a small book filled with parchment, pulling a quill from her dark, curling hair before making a short note on the already full pages.

The Jarvery screeches again, a loud, high-pitched sound that's full of pain before releasing a relentless stream of curses, each more unintelligible then the last.

Hermione's brows furrow. Her feet, moving of their own accord, drawing her closer to the caged Jarvey and the unusual young woman.

"Stop." Hermione tries, a tremor in her voice as she stops mere feet from the scene before her, dread filling her as all the pieces begin to click into place. "Stop." She tries again, voice louder now, verging on a shout, yet there's no reaction from the young woman and Jarvey.

The minutes seem to tick by, the beast's phrases and statements become less and less intelligible, it's words slurred as though drunk as the young woman continues to take notes, blissfully unaware of her current audience. Seemingly unaffected by the pained display playing out before her.

 _So cold- so calculated. It's as though she doesn't hear it's screams at all._

Tears begin to collect in Hermione's eyes, a pained noise tearing from her lips as the Jarvey continues to writhe about in its man made cage.

* * *

"-Rewind, recast as events fray at the seams

The truth is not what it first may seem

Not all that has happened will come to pass

As the gathering darkness begins to amass"

A garbled sort of noise draws their attention to the loveseat. Even Theseus looks concerned at the sudden noise. All eyes focus on the mysterious Ms. Granger, yet she refuses to make another sound.

Clearing his throat, Theseus continues; however, one set of striking hazel eyes stay firmly fixed on the time travelling woman and her chosen companion.

* * *

A twig snaps behind her— dead leaves being crushed under the soles of someone's feet. Hermione turns, roughly wiping at the tears that have gathered in her eyes, that ball of dread growing heavier in her chest. Her eyes widen in shock as she momentarily questions her sanity.

She's seeing double. A few feet away Newt stands.

 _Her Newt._ She thinks, struggling to swallow, throat bobbing almost erratically.

Just behind _her_ Newt, a much younger, school-aged Newt stands. His yellow and black Hufflepuff tie, almost blindingly bright, that recognizable copper-brown hair sticking up every which way, his generous spattering of freckles noticeable even from this distance against his pallid skin.

The younger Newt rushes forward, right towards her Newt, phasing through him like a horror movie ghost through a wall. Reflexively, her hand jumps to her mouth, muffling a shocked squeal of surprise as the boy rushes forward, each step moving him closer to the center of the clearing where the young girl is kneeling in front of the caged Jarvey.

 _A memory. We're somehow within a memory._ Hermione thinks; horror beginning to dawn on her as she pins Newt with a worried stare.

 _And for once, this isn't one of my own._

* * *

"—Heed thy warning, lest they fail

Not all can be changed, no matter the scale"

* * *

Hermione turns back to the scene, watching the memory play out in real time before her.

No less horrified by what she's just seen but now fully aware of her inability to change what has happend here and what will come of this situation.

Within the cage, the Jarvey now lays curled in a ball, clearly in pain as the young, wild-haired young woman crouches on the ground beside it. Her dated Hogwarts uniform rumpled, blue and bronze tie hanging loosely around her neck, grass stains on her sock clad knees and a few leaves tangled in her wild hair.

Memory Newt rushes forward, worried eyes on the shaking Jarvey within the cage.

"What have you done?" He rasps out, voice heavy with emotion as tears forms in the corners of his eyes.

"Another experiment." The young girl replies, eyebrows raised with a confused glint. "It's fine, it appears to be having an adverse reaction to the potion I gave it, but honestly that was all within my expectations. Not every single experiment will have satisfactory results." She reasons, tone even and steady, dark eyes firmly focused on Newt's own.

"No." Memory Newt grits his teeth, the corners of his eyes pulling tight as his irritation spikes.

He opens the latch on the cage, ignoring his friend's protests, sticking a single hand into the cage, gently grasping the shaking Jarvey's body, pulling it from its confines before cradling the small creature to his chest.

A pained noise fills the clearing, silencing the young woman's protests, the small sound coming from the beast now cradled in Newt's arms. He gently examines the creature, pulling its eyelids back to inspect its rapidly, moving eyes, panic seeming to grip him in its unrelenting grasp.

"Honestly, it's fine—" The young woman insists, a frustrated edge to her voice, rolling her beautiful dark brown eyes before begrudgingly depositing her parchment filled notepad into a messy bag on the forest floor.

"It's not." Both memory Newt and Hermione's Newt say at once. Their dual speeches cause an echo like effect to Hermione's ears. She looks to her companion with wide, tear-filled eyes, only now noticing that he's closed the distance between them. One final step positions him beside her, calloused fingers brushing against her own that lay limp at her side.

"No, it's not fine. He's not fine." Memory Newt finishes, disappointment and pain clear in his voice.

Hermione gives Newt's hand a squeeze, looking up at the stunning man he's become before looking back to the boy he once was, seeing the similarities. A small, sad smile pulling at her lips as she does her best to ignore the tremors in his hands.

* * *

"-There must be a balance, a price to be paid."

* * *

The sound of laughter fills their ears, a group of students seem to be moments away from entering the clearing, drawing ever closer to the odd pair of students and the shaking beast.

"Lestrange—" Hermione's heart skips a beat, frozen in place as Newt's fingers tighten around her own.

 _Of course._ She thinks bitterly. Finally, she can put a name to the face.

"—why am I not surprised to find you here looking like some sort of wild woman? I shouldn't be surprised considering that beast you call a mother." A young man taunts, the smirk contorting his handsome, aristocratic face.

Hermione looks at his tie. Brows rising in shock as she's met with the sight of blue and bronze, instead of silver and green. Her cheeks redden as a wave of embarrassment rushes over her.

 _When you assume..._ With a slight shake of her head, Hermione silently recognizes that her own prejudice is showing. Only a fool would assume that only Slytherin's were bad. Honestly, she should have known better by this point.

Eyes focusing once more on the scene, Hermione notices the look of anger quickly spreading across memory Newt's face.

Suddenly, with a startling screech, the Jarvey rears up, sharp claws slicing through the front of Newt's button down before falling to the leaf-covered forest floor with a thud.

Another bestial scream fills the air as it launches itself at one of the boys. All manner of human speech gone, the creature reverting back to a most beast-like state as it claws and bites at the boy's clear, pale skin.

Unseen by all but Hermione and the present-day Newt, Leta watches on with a slight curve to her lips.

Hermione swallows, hard, a cold sweat breaking out across her hairline as the familiarity of that expression smashes into her like the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

"-Heed they warning...

Born of the mud, she with the lion heart roars."

The softly spoken words filter through Newt's senses. The familiarity of the words threatening to send him back in time as he struggles his way through the mental fog. Panic grips him as he's suddenly thrust forward into consciousness, blue eyes flying open, a strangled noise tumbling from his shaking lips.

Wide-eyed and hyperventilating, Newt barely notices his brother rushing forward. Confusion pricks him when Theseus stops only a few feet away; apprehension and fear apparent in his body language and face. He looks about the room, taking stock of the expressions of the room's occupants as he settles his breath.

All, but the Potter Patriarch looks at him with concern. Slowly raising a brow, Newt follows the hazel eyed line of sight, frantic blue eyes falling on Hermione beside him.

Fear crashes into him, breath coming in heaving gasps, any progress made in calming himself now gone as he notices that Hermione is still unconscious. Their hands joined, the odd magiks weaving about her, a golden string seeming to tie their joined hands together.

 _Not a hallucination then._ He thinks, the thought sounding distant and groggy.

Another strangled noise falls from Newt's lips as Henry rushes forward, he watches as if in slow motion as Henry reaches out a single, lightly-aged hand drawing closer.

Moving on autopilot, Newt lifts his free hand, stopping Henry's own before it can reach its mark. Henry stumbles, a shock of magic seeming to smash into him as their skin meets.

Next, to Newt, Hermione startles awake, eyes alarmingly alert, yet somehow far away as she reaches out. Another shock of magic smashing into not only Henry, but Newt as well, creating a rather unusual, yet entirely silent display that the other three occupants of the room would argue about for days.

Later, when his family and Theseus would ask what had occurred in the few, tense moments that followed the odd display, Henry would pin them with a withering look. His patience with the constant questioning growing thin. He simply replies with the same statement, time and time again, altering it only slightly depending on who asked.

 _"It's a family matter."_

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

Lady-Delphinea: Ohhh that is something interesting to look forward to! I'm positive Newt and Leta with cross paths eventually.

Brian1972: Awe man you're right! I completely buggered that up. I forgot that when Harry disarmed Draco, even though Draco wasn't currently using the elder wand, harry became the master of the wand... that's totally my bad and something i'm now going to have to take into consideration. Thank you for pointing that out though! I completely missed that and i'm going to have to refresh myself on what I wrote/ take that into consideration as I go ahead. Seriously thank you so much!

Wawo20: Ahhh sorry last one was a bit filler-ish... glad you're finding it interesting so far though!

zsarah: ...i'm prettty sure Hermione still has Bellatrix's wand... need to double check that. Thank you for bringing that up! Huh... that's an interesting idea though! I wonder if there will be any weird magical happenings when Leta and Hermione meet face to face. Something to think on for sure!

Heavenly1998: Just a bunch of weird magical hijinks that I hope at least made a bit of sense :P Sorry about the long wait for an update!

Fictionsrforme: Nope nope. As I said above i'd never just give up on this fic without letting you guys know! Updates may take a bit at times but i'll always come back. Ohhhhh Lestrange really is but I don't think it'll be that way forever. I'm hoping that with Newt's help and such Hermione will be able to address everything with Lestrange (old and new) plus Newt's gonna be coming clean and really adressing some issues I imagine.

Alice-Ann Wonderland: Ehhhh my writing just may be sloppy. That last chapter did not come easy so it may not have made proper sense.

Guest (May 4th): No you werent the only one that found that last chapter confusing. When I have the time i'll go back and fix everything. Mmmmm no? I don't believe the Potter's are too much older. I did all the maths a while back and while there may be some errors i'm pretty sure it all works out. Henry would be Harry's great-grandfather and he's in his 40's in my timeline, Fleamont and Euphemia would be in their early 20's and Charlus is currently in Hogwarts.

Also. I have yet to decide if I want Charlus or Fleamont to be Harry's grandfather and the father of James. Canon tells us it's Fleamont but the more popular Fanon casting seems to be Charlus. Either way it's canon that the Potter Grandparents didn't have James until later life and i'm leaning a bit more towards Charlus being the grandfather I believe. James was born in 1960, it's currently 1927. By 1960 Euphemia and Fleamont would be roughly 56 I think. For the sake of the fic i'm running with the idea that Witches/ Wizards are still able to have children a later in life than their muggle counterparts, just like how they can live longer/ age differently... I honestly can't remember if those are canon or fanon facts but they're the ones i'm using.

Sooooo after this rant i've realized you're right and I may have aged them up a bit to much. That being said I could have Charlus and Dorea be the grandparents giving me a bit more wiggle room. Making Dorea a few years younger than Charlus to give me even more room to play... and I just realized I placed Charlus in fifth year. If he's born roughly in 1911 I could give him and Dorea a 9-10 year age gap I suppose. Dorea would be early 40's, Charlus Late 40's I think... anyways i'm rambeling... thinking out loud. You were correct I aged them a bit too much but if we go with the idea that witches/ wizards can have children later in life it still works out well enough.

Thank you for the well wishes with the smoking though! It's been going pretty well... except when I go out drinking... you are totally right about that as well! Stick with your quitting! Keep it up!

Rukz: mmm yeah it was kind of filler-ish but I also think it had a bit to do with how long you guys had to wait between updates maybe. Might be part of the reason it seemed to be dragging.

Guest (May 14th): nah nah. I'm pretty much done with Tina. She won't be messing around with Newt and Hermione's relationship. Also don't hate her, just had little need for her. I do need to add in some more romance moments between Newt and Hermione. I'll be working on that but nope sorry but I will not bring Tina back into the mix. I'm having trouble jamming the romance in right now adding a love triangle would just create a headache for me. Also I never really wanted to paint Tina as a super villain. Like I said totally don't hate her just really didn't have a need for her so I used her a bit for drama and conflict but she's not going to come snatch Hermione's man.

Out of Custody: ahaha here's the next one for you ;P sorry about the wait. Like I said summer's a busy time for me but i'm not going to abadon this guy without a notice of sorts! Ah! I do agree. There are quite a few errors I need to go back and fix without a doubt. I'm just hoping they don't take away too much from the story atm. I will fix them but right now i'm just trying to keep the story going! I intend to go back and do a big edit/ fix up at the end or if I rnadomly have some time/ feel like it! Ohhhh I have many things planned! I still have years to cover in this fic. 1927's kind of a filler sort of year. Not big on the action but lining up a few of the future players, establishing a place for Hermione/others in Britain, tying up everything in America and getting some truths out + deepening the bond between Hermione and Newt maybe... sorry I just rambled my thoughts at you... tend to do that sometimes! Anyways hope I don't dissapoint as I go forward!

Lelvil: Thank you for the kind words! And honetly you flatter me too much! I'm just the only Hermione/ Newt fic that updates at least somewhat regularly :P Also sorry about the wait! I'll try to update sooner this time!


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